


messed up too ( just like you )

by dormant_bender



Category: Bandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Gang Leader Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Implied Relationships, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Park Jimin Is a Little Shit, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: Min Yoongi is part of the Bullet Proof gang, an organization that had gone undetected by the city for years. He was a criminal, one that wasn't supposed to know love.Yet even so, he had still managed to have stolen a heart and had his own simultaneously taken in return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song "in common" by alicia keys~
> 
> i was inspired by [THIIIISS~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnTBNV8XwMM) ((the original title was "this moment (we own it)" but i think the alicia song fits better, maybe?))
> 
> maybe a series ?

  
  
  


  
  


Dark eyes stare impassively ahead at the grimy cement wall as he mentally contemplates how he would weasel out of this situation. Scarlet dribbles from his busted bottom lip and down the column of his throat to pool at his collar bones; battle scars, one's that would heal soon, he knew. There's a purpling bruise near his right eye and a thin scrape just beneath his left one, stretching thinly across his cheek, dried and crusted.

  


He's secured to a wooden chair, wrists and ankles bound by heavy-duty rope, pinning him effectively in place. As soon as he had roused from being unconscious, his mind had been working a mile a minute as he ponders just how to loosen his restraints without the rope burning into his skin any further.

  


He releases a grunt as he manages to squirm just enough to get the chair to wobble backwards. Eyes had noticed a sharp pipe located behind him, one that juts out just enough to cut through the ropes given he was precise and cautious. 

  


Yoongi vaguely remembers taking a pair of brass knuckles to the face on multiple accords, and then the rest is blank; just speckles of black and white blinding his vision and poking holes in his memory. He wets his bottom lip, tastes the blood still lingering there, then steels himself and hobbles toward the pipe.

  


The legs of the chair squeal against the floor but he doesn't care at this point, not when he can feel himself losing circulation. Somehow he manages to get plastered to the wall near the pipe and immediately writhes in an attempt to get the iron in the proper place. After numerous failed attempts, and a few cuts here and there, he manages a sigh of relief when he can hear the sharp pipe cutting through the rope.

  


Then he hears the hushed murmur of voices approaching and he mentally scolds himself because of course, this was bound to happen, especially considering his luck. He increases the momentum until he feels the rope loosening around his wrists and can wriggle them free then works swiftly to remove the bonds biting into his ankles.

  


Two men are rounding the corner when he finally manages to free himself completely and instead of sticking around for another fight—or more brass knuckles to the face—he instead sprints in the opposing direction in search of the exit. Furious shrieks echo behind him, but he doesn't have the time to glance over his shoulder, doesn't even want to at this point.

  


One of the massive doors is squeaking as it races to a close but Yoongi is faster as he rushes nearer, sliding to the grimy floor and just barely making it beneath the heavy expanse. His chest is heaving and his wounds begin a steady, dull throb as he scrambles from the ground toward one of the various cars parked behind the enclosure.

  


Bullets begin flying from the top of the building, more of the gang swarming to the back of the enclosure, not desiring to let him leave alive. Yoongi curses and dodges some of the bullets surging his way, sliding across one of the hoods of the cars, hurriedly ridding himself of his shirt and hissing in the process. He ties it around his arm and thrusts a fist forward, the glass cracking beneath his administrations, but not nearly enough force to shatter it completely.

  


He ducks abruptly when a string of bullets breezes just inches past his face, covering his head, glancing about for the location they originated from. "I don't get paid enough for this shit," murmurs the blond as he rises once more, determined to pierce the glass. 

  


He's suddenly grateful for the rain of bullets, one lucky one shattering the glass and the shell-casing bouncing into the passenger seat where it simmers. He grins smugly and yanks the car door open, raiding the glove compartment for keys; there are none, so he heaves another groan as he hurriedly works on wiring the car until it rumbles to life.

  


Fingers grip onto the steering wheel and he recklessly drives straight over the cement toward the crowded streets. His arm swipes over his lower lip, smearing the blood across his bare skin, but he smiles nonetheless as he sticks a fist out the window and offers the various gun-men the middle finger. "Go fuck yourself," he shouts through the open window, snickering to himself when he receives another rain of gunfire in response.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Arriving back at headquarters is another story, however, and Namjoon is already looking displeased as he stands with his arms crossed over his chest at the front entrance. Yoongi finds himself smirking despite the furious expression plastered across the elder's face; something about how his lips are pressed into a firm line, his head shaking, murmuring something to himself.

  


Namjoon reaches into his pocket and retrieves a tiny remote, pressing one of the many buttons. The massive garage door swings sluggishly open to reveal the inside of the base, revealing polished and sleek surfaces of the interior alongside the rest of the members milling about. Music blares from inside the establishment and Yoongi nods at the elder as he breezes past him, parking the useless vehicle beside one of the new cars they had recently acquired.

  


Before he can abandon the useless piece of junk, Namjoon stops him and stands in his way once the door to the car swings open. His arms are crossed once more, fingers drumming on his bicep, frown deep and still in place.

  


"You could at least welcome me home with a smile," lightheartedly teases Yoongi as he slings his legs to the side and presses the heel of his ruined sneakers on the floor. 

  


"I'm really not in the mood right now." dismisses Namjoon with a scolding click of his tongue. Yoongi glances about and notices Jin a few hundred feet away on the staircase, leaning across the railing with an amused grin plastered across his mouth, coining him a playful wink. "You were supposed to be back hours ago, you had the team worried. And when the team is worried, we can't get shit done. If we can't get shit done, we don't get paid." 

  


The blond yawns into his fist, generally disinterested with the topic; it wasn't like he hadn't heard this whole spiel before, he had even memorized it. "I got caught up, okay?" He murmurs, leaning against the side of the seat and absentmindedly prodding at his busted bottom lip. "Getting shot at and taking a fist to the face should be enough to get me off the hook, _dad_." 

  


Fingers, previously drumming anxiously, now pause. Nothing more is said, though Namjoon does shake his head disapprovingly once more before rolling his eyes and leaving altogether. Apparently he really wasn't in the mood considering he literally lived to lecture the team extensively before and after each mission—failed or otherwise, that is. 

  


Yoongi slams the door shut, nose crinkling in disdain at the outdated car model he had chosen. Yeah, he could have definitely done better than an old, ninety-six Camry. His palm glides over the holes drilled into the side of the vehicle, marveling at how the bullets had managed to miss him; he had been told he was invincible and he was really starting to believe it himself.

  


Suddenly he's surging backward and has to grasp blindly at the air to prevent himself from tipping over completely. A pair of arms capture him before the feat is completed, however, and then he's being embraced tightly; he can audibly hear how his back cracks at the force and he swears he's experiencing some form of whiplash from being tossed around.

  


Familiar cologne assaults his senses when his face is buried in the neck of the perpetrator. His eyes flutter to a content close when he realizes that it's just Jimin. Jimin, who had probably been physically restrained from attempting to aid him; the rules of the game were that it was better to lose one than to lose the whole team, something that Yoongi had been initially okay with, at least until he had found himself entrapped by a certain redhead.

  


"Yoongi, you fucker." murmurs the redhead as he presses a tender peck to the side of Yoongi's face, nails digging into the bare skin of his back as he clings to him. "I was coming for you, I swear. The guys tried stopping me before and—.. Well, uh, it's just nice having you back, that's all." He clears his throat and withdraws from the hug abruptly, eyes scanning over the latter's face in scrutiny.

  


Stubby fingers gingerly prod at the scratch at Yoongi's cheek, hearing a low hiss in response. The blond bats the hand away, not out of annoyance, just not desiring to be babied for a few minor casualties. "Stop worrying, it's not that bad." 

  


Jimin purses his lips in response, though his solemn expression doesn't stay that way for long. It's soon replaced by a beaming grin as he nods his head in the direction of a set of doors, strolling off toward the area and glancing over his shoulder at the latter when he doesn't move automatically. "Get your ass over here."

  


He mobilizes instinctively, doesn't have to even think about it before his legs move on their own accord. Hoseok wiggles his brows suggestively as he passes him, hands occupied by the mods he was using for one of the new cars the group had secured. There are multiples parts scattered neatly on both sides of him and he has a few tools resting between his legs as he resumes the work he had started.

  


Taehyung has a knowing grin on his face as he passes the two in the corridor leading to their private quarters. Jimin slides past him, ignoring the impish expression he wears, and instead continues forward. Yoongi, on the other hand, is stifling a laugh as the brunet retrieves a pack of condoms from his pocket, handing it over and patting him encouragingly on the back.

  


"Go handle your business." Taehyung murmurs in what was meant to be a whisper, but Yoongi is certain that Jimin hears it if the little eye roll he does is anything to go by. 

  


The little redhead nods his head in the direction of the now open door to their shared room, beckoning him nearer with a forefinger. Taehyung is continuously glancing over his shoulder as he eyes the two, grinning broadly to himself; Yoongi notices and he coins him a parting glance before he lets the door slam shut on its hinges behind him.

  


Almost instantaneously a pair of lips are capturing his and he finds his back thudding harshly against the door. Hands are frantically gripping at the reddened skin of his abdomen, nails tracing the lingering marks there from the night prior, feeling reminiscent about what had occurred. His plump lips are working Yoongi's open, tasting the dried metallic substance still clinging to his mouth, not minding in the slightest.

  


"Thought you were gonna clean me up," Yoongi manages in between pecks, hands going to the thin satin shirt that Jimin adorns, tearing at the pristine white buttons half-opened in the front. 

  


Jimin manages a snort in between kisses, tugging Yoongi's lower lip between his teeth. "Aren't I licking your wounds?" This earns a rewarding, genuine grin from the blond who nods enthusiastically in response as he succumbs to the enchanting redhead that is tugging him toward the bed in the center of the room.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


A few hundred feet away lies the bank the group had planned on robbing that day. It was nothing personal, really it wasn't, the team just need more funds to accomplish a bigger project they had. Something to do with swiping some tech from a conglomerate that had recently acquired information from an unnamed source. Black gloves are snug on Yoongi's hands and are firmly on the steering wheel of the car as the duo await the call from Namjoon.

  


Jimin, who is in the passenger seat currently placing a face mask over his mouth, is smirking at him. Adrenaline is already rushing through his veins and his face is a light pink, it always colored like this before a big heist. Something that Yoongi lived to see, honestly. Oftentimes when he finds himself captured and held against his will, he thinks of Jimin and this particular expression, how he revels in anticipation and gets high on the act.

  


He wears a black, cotton face mask with a white skull contrasting on the front of it. It hides those perfect, plump lips and Yoongi wishes momentarily that the group didn't have to conceal their identities as such. Jimin finishes the look with a pair of thick-rimmed aviators, brushing his bangs down to shield more of his forehead.

  


Yoongi drums his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling anxious despite himself. He jolts when Jimin tosses a pair of matching aviators in his general direction, and fiddles with them before sliding them on over his own eyes, turning to the latter who watches him inquisitively.

  


"Nervous?"

  


"Just thinking of where I wanna take you after we get these bags," Yoongi replies promptly, reaching out to rest a hand on Jimin's thigh, offering it a reassuring squeeze. 

  


Jimin doesn't look entirely convinced but he chooses to ignore it instead of prying. He reaches for the walkie-talkie resting between his knees and holds a button down, radioing in to Namjoon. "We ready?"

  


Static is received initially but then Namjoon's voice is heard through the receiver, confirming that it was a go. The corners of Yoongi's lips quirk as he presses on the gas pedal, hearing the engine roaring to life briefly, before he maneuvers forward to park across the street from the bank. There are other cars present, one's of different colors but of the same model, spread out along the curb.

  


Taehyung and Jungkook are stationed together in a crimson Range Rover while Hoseok was paired with Jin in a separate car a little distance down the street; they were mostly used as back-up and as the brains, always quick on their feet and able to execute plans in second. Taehyung exits the Range Rover with Jungkook in tow a few cars behind them, each carrying an inconspicuous bag on either shoulder, equipped with face masks as well.

  


The walkie-talker fizzles to life once more and Namjoon's voice is echoing from the speaker: "Remember the plan. Go in after V and IP, alright? Joker and Hope are gonna jam the cameras in case things go down, they got the system at their disposal. But make it quick, the alarms will still go off. Good luck." 

  


Yoongi snatches up the black bag resting on the floor beside his feet and slings it nonchalantly over his shoulder, nodding at Jimin, who nods back and slings his own bag over his shoulder. Like that the two are abandoning the vehicle to jog across the street, strolling casually into the bank to spot Taehyung posted with Jungkook in one of the lines, looking like picture-perfect citizens.

  


Jungkook makes eye contact with Jimin and the two enter a brief exchange before the raven nods. Almost instantaneously, the duo are yelling at the patrons to get on the floor and are jogging up to the counter and demanding the accountants to fill the bags with money. Yoongi is retrieving a handgun from his bag and points it toward one of the accountants that had clamored over the counter for the alarm, the man seizing movement and raising his hands defensively in the air, pleading for his life.

  


"Get up," commands the blond, gun still pointed at the man's head. "Get back behind the counter and fill this up," he thrusts the back into his trembling arms and directs him back toward the counter, leaning across the sleek surface, gun trained on the accountant.

  


Jimin is shuffling across the tiled floor, directing the patrons to one side of the building to keep better track of them. He points his gun at a trembling group that had laid flat on the floor, motioning with the gun toward the wall where the rest of the citizens had piled up, reaching for phones and sobbing. His eyes narrow at one of the patrons frantically retrieving their phone, fingers trembling as he attempts to dial a number.

  


Jimin pulls the trigger, the bullet lodging into the phone, ultimately knocking the device out of the man's hand. "If anyone else tries that, it'll be the last thing you do." threatens the redhead, eyes narrowed into a stern scowl.

  


The walkie-talkie goes off once more and this time it's a warning from Namjoon, who mentions that Jin and Hoseok were having troubles keeping the system blocked, informing them that there wasn't much time before the cameras would inevitably come back online. Policemen were already headed to the scene almost instantaneously once the cameras had blacked out, so the group needed to wrap things up if they desired to leave without resulting to violence.

  


Jimin keeps a stern eye on the patrons cowering together, some praying in hushed whispers, others sizing the redhead up. He knows they won't try it, knows it would be a fruitless attempt, especially when he was armed and they weren't. It would almost be too easy pulling the trigger and silencing the dozen of people cowering against the wall, and Jimin didn't like easy. Easy was boring.

  


A single gun-shot rings through the building and it resonates from the area where Taehyung and Jungkook are hovering. One of the accountants had pressed a hidden button beneath one of the counters, signaling to the nearest police station that the bank was under duress. There had been a small handgun hidden beneath the area as well and Taehyung, intent on defending Jungkook, had handled the accountant before it had become a dire issue.

  


Yoongi glances halfheartedly at the young accountant clutching their shoulder, releasing high-pitched cries that nearly deafen him. He spares a glance at Jimin, who has his brows furrowed, gazing at him in a silent plea that he speed up. "I hear sirens," Jimin announces in a yell, eyes flickering toward the entrance where blue sirens are visibly flashing just outside of the building.

  


"Get out of there. Hope and Joker are coming around the back entrance, get out now." 

  


Pounding footfalls echo just outside the door but no one has time to freeze and acknowledge them. Instead Jungkook manages another stack of bills to shove into his bag before closing it securely, grabbing Taehyung by the bicep and dragging him toward the back entrance. Yoongi, however, is still crouched over stacks of cash, continuing to shovel as many bills as he can into the duffel bag.

  


"I know I said I'd take a bullet for you, but.." Jimin starts but doesn't finish, voice trailing off as a swarm of officers begin to storm the interior of the building. Jimin points his gun at them and kicks the side of Yoongi's knee, signaling that he needed to get up before things went south.

  


"Drop the firearm and get on the ground." demands one particularly pudgy officer, gun aimed directly at Jimin, expression stern and beads of sweat beading on his forehead.

  


" _Yoongi_ —"

  


One gunshot explodes deafeningly loud and Yoongi is suddenly on his feet, shoving Jimin in the direction of the corridors that lead to the back exit. Nearly a dozen of footfalls pound on the tiles behind them, but Yoongi persists, continuing to shove Jimin forward until the two are nearly collapsing out the backdoor. Jimin is hissing lowly, grappling onto his forearm, the material of his shirt burned and exposing angry red skin.

  


"That son of a bitch," hisses Yoongi as he shoves Jimin gingerly in the direction of the open door to the car where Hoseok murmurs a hushed curse, grabbing Jimin and towing him into the safety of the backseat. Yoongi, however, remains posted outside of the vehicle with his gun aimed at the door, impatiently waiting for the officer responsible for the damage to emerge.

  


"You crazy bastard, get in the car." Hoseok demands, tugging at the back of Yoongi's shirt, trying to persuade him to get inside the vehicle. "They're right on our ass, Yoongi, there's nothing you can do—"

  


Yoongi growls at the words spewing from Hoseok but he ends up clenching his teeth and climbing into the backseat alongside Jimin. As soon as Hoseok is situated in the driver seat once more, the officers emerge from the door, shots being fired one after the other, aiming at the tires of the car to prevent the vehicle from escaping.

  


"Cover would be nice," groans Hoseok as he presses on the gas, finding it difficult to meander out of the narrow space he found himself in.

  


"He fucking _shot him_." Yoongi growls once more as he gingerly tends to the area of Jimin's forearm, tearing the fabric away from the ailed skin.

  


Jimin is breathing hard, chest heaving and beads of sweat building at his brow, releasing soft whimpers at the pain throbbing through his arm. "Just a flesh wound," he offers a laugh but it's more hysterical than reassuring and goddammit, Yoongi is desperate to avenge him; he deserved it more than Jimin did, for fuck's sake. "It's okay." 

  


Tires squeal on the pavement as Hoseok swerves into the center of traffic in an attempt to lose the police bound to be chasing them. His eyes are shielded by thick shades but Yoongi doesn't have to see his face to know how blatantly distressed he is. His hands have a slight tremble to them as he grips onto the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline, like if he let go, the world would cease to exist and all of this would have been for nothing.

  


"You good back there?"

  


Yoongi is fuming by this point, face a bright crimson, ivory teeth clenched unbearably tight and jaw set firm. He glances back through the back window, can spot the flicker of red and blue lights flashing a few cars behind them, knows that the group had royally fucked up. He reverts back to Jimin, who seems relatively fine all things considered, the redhead clutching onto his arm and shifting on the seat to get closer to the blond.

  


The blond scoots across the seat, fabric of his jeans scratching across the material raucously. "I should've listened to you," groans Yoongi, burying his face in Jimin's perspired locks, inhaling his comforting scent deeply in an attempt to reign in his emotions. "Fuck, this is all my fault. I'm gonna fucking kill him, I swear." He wraps an arm protectively around the redhead, holds him tight, especially with how frenzied Hoseok was driving, didn't want to see him injured any further.

  


Taehyung's voice is heard over one of the speakers, desiring to check in on the rest of the team. "I heard a shot, man." He goes silent, hesitant to speak. "Everything good?"

  


There's the faint sound of rustling and then Jungkook's voice filters in. "I thought you guys were right behind us." 

  


Hoseok slams on the brakes abruptly and ends up rear-ending a car, distorting the metal and leaving him heaving. He backpedals and passes the car without trouble, swerving onto the highway. He snatches up the walkie-talkie and steels himself before speaking. "Jimin, he was—..." No one wants to acknowledge what had happened, no one desired to speak the words aloud except Yoongi, who was not dealing with it well. "Let's meet up at the underground car park, we need to switch cars as soon as possible." 

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Days had passed since the incident but Yoongi doesn't feel an ounce better. Flesh wounds weren't so bad, they were better than a bullet going straight through the skin, but he still wasn't satisfied with the outcome. The redhead had returned to his usual chipper self after a full day had passed, and what made it worse was that he had pretended it hadn't happened at all.

  


This agitated Yoongi, who was still harboring guilt over the incident, having refused to let Jimin out of his sight since the day it occurred. He was currently hanging out alone in one of the training rooms, resting on one of the benches near the punching bags. Dark eyes assess the damage done to his knuckles, bloodied and bruised, managing a humorless laugh at the sight. 

  


He fiddles with the roll of adhesive athletic tape and rolls off a decent amount, wrapping them securely around one hand and then the next. Another round with the punching bag should do him some justice, especially since he still had unresolved tension to deal with; he should've waited and dealt with that officer properly. 

  


Jimin hadn't done a thing to that officer, didn't even threaten him, yet he had received a bullet to the arm. Yoongi shifts his neck, hears a rewarding popping sound in response, and readies his stance. He jabs the punching bag once, twice, thrice and leaves it bobbing back and forth with the force of his punches. He swipes his sweaty bangs out of his face, slicks them back on his head, then prepares for another round of quickfire jabs.

  


He's interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat and it's Jimin with a first aid kit in his clutches. He goes to the bench where Yoongi's things are gathered and plops down, opening the kit and retrieving a needle and sutures. He flicks his gaze to the seat beside him and shifts to tuck one of his legs comfortably beneath him, frowning slightly at Yoongi's disheveled state. 

  


"My stitches popped, asshole." Jimin announces in a teasing voice, though the frown still remains plastered on his plump mouth. He pushes the materials needed to perform the procedure to the side, eyes gazing down at the wound where the sutures have come loose.

  


Yoongi allows the wraps to remain on his hands and wipes the sweat from his palms by rubbing them against his shorts. He glances at the wound on Jimin's arm, notices how the area still held a purple-blue tint, and crinkles his nose in disdain; he hadn't laid eyes on it since that day and hadn't intended to ever lay eyes on it directly again, yet here he was. 

  


"Namjoon told you to chill for the rest of the week, genius." retorts Yoongi as he reaches for a pack of antiseptic wipes, snatching up one and gingerly reaching for his arm. "Kicking Jungkook's ass isn't relaxing." 

  


Jimin chews at the end of his thumb as the cool pad graces his skin, biting down on the digit as the alcohol cleanses the wound. He hisses through clenched teeth, watching as Yoongi reaches for the scissors and a pair of tweezers to remove the old sutures. "It made me feel a lot better though," explains Jimin a half beat later, smiling reassuringly. "It's over now, could you stop looking so fucking depressing?"

  


Yoongi doesn't breathe a word, just focuses on removing the sutures as gently as possible. Once they're removed, he disposes of them inside the antiseptic packet. He reaches for the thread then and begins to steadily work on patching the redhead back together; it's a daunting task, one that he wishes he didn't have to repeat so soon.

  


"How do you expect me to feel after that?" He mumbles an apology when Jimin tenses and releases a whine as the sutures pierce his skin. "All this time we've done missions together and I never let anything happen to you, and then—Then that fat fuck _shoots_ you and I'm supposed to, what? Smile and pretend that it didn't happen like you are? No fucking way, Jimin. _No way_." 

  


The air turns somber then as the redhead sits there as quiet as a mouse. He barely even twitches as the elder threads the wound back together, doesn't even utter words of protest at the pain that shoots up the length of his arm like small pits of lava, burning and radiating through every inch of him. Lashes flutter in an attempt to hold back the tears that cling to them, can't bare releasing the prick of tears at his eyes, not now when he's supposed to be the one that keeps it together.

  


And the blond notices, how could he not? He always noticed everything, it was part of his character to notice things like this. He was the calculative one that took details into account, yet he had somehow miscalculated the time he had to fill his bag full of cash. Once the job is completed, he sits there immobile and frowns at Jimin, reaching out to brush away the tears that brim at his bottom lids.

  


"Don't do this." Yoongi pleads in a low, raspy tone as he scoots closer across the bench. "Don't cry, please." His voice is as helpless as he feels as he watches Jimin bury his face within his hands, hunching forward and back arching as he presses his elbows onto his knees. One of his hands runs up and down the younger's spine, attempting to soothe the redhead as best as he could.

  


"I'm still here," warbles Jimin, voice muffled and barely audible. "Treating me like I'm gone isn't helping you dick. I'm still _here_." reiterates the redhead, this time more firmly than before. He removes his hands from his face, eyes reddened and glassy, looking directly into Yoongi's eyes.

  


For the first time in what felt like years, Yoongi was at a loss for words. Losing his family at a young age had hardened him as a person, hardened him to a point where he had been convinced that he hadn't possessed emotions anymore. Everything had been taken from him and he had thought that he had nothing else to lose, not until he had met the Bullet Proof team. 

  


Even before he had felt untouchable, that nothing could destroy him anymore than it already had. But then he had gotten to know them, had started to concern himself over whether or not they would return from missions even despite how much he persisted that he was only in it for the money. Somehow Jimin had nuzzled his way into the previously untouchable depths of Yoongi's heart and had settled there with a vice-grip, never wavering and ever-present. 

  


" _You almost weren't_." 

  


Jimin's breath hitches in his throat at the mention, one single tear cascading down the plane of his cheek, eyes searching the latter's in yearning. The redhead embraces himself tightly, rubbing his biceps up and down for warmth, teeth burrowing within his lower lip. He looks like he desires to speak, like there's words clinging to the very tip of his tongue, but he refuses to let them freely flow into the open air. 

  


"I keep thinking about it and seeing the look on your face when it happened. Something about it, fuck, it _killed_ me inside." He bunches one of his hands in his sweat-soaked shirt, directly over where his heart was located. Thinking about it now really isn't aiding in his recovery either, but he was far too invested now to cease the conversation. "You keep saying it wasn't that bad and you know what? Maybe it wasn't, _maybe_." He stresses the word but doesn't truly believe what he's saying. "Even if it wasn't that bad, you still got hit and I felt like I was dying. Do you get that? I might as well have taken a bullet through the head after that." 

  


Jimin is still leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, craning his neck at a painful angle to peer up at Yoongi. His hands clench into firm fists at the words being spoken, like he doesn't agree with them whatsoever, doesn't want to accept the cruel reality of it all. "If you ever say something that insane again, I will fucking kill you myself." 

  


Something about that leaves a fond smile upon Yoongi's lips as he slings an arm around the redhead once more, tugging him into another tight embrace. "Awe, do you really mean that?"

  


The redhead attempts to shove him away and withdraw but instead is captured by the biceps, the latter's hand holding onto him as delicately as possible, still frightened by the thought of bringing him further pain. "You're such an asshole, let me go." mumbles Jimin will an agitated huff, coining the blond a heatless glare. "I'm serious, that's not funny." 

  


Yoongi holds his gaze, however, and earns a brief quirk of the lips from the redhead. It's enough confirmation from him that for now, things were okay again, even if they really weren't. So he surges forward to capture the younger in a brazen kiss, pressing him back against the cool wood of the bench, straddling his lap and pinning his arms above his head. 

  


Jimin doesn't breathe a word of retaliation and doesn't complain of discomfort, so Yoongi feels somewhat comfortable with continuing his administrations. He swallows each panting breath that Jimin has to offer and presses his tongue forward, invading his mouth and caressing every crevice of his cavern, earning a rewarding hum from the redhead in response.

  


Footfalls echo into the room but Yoongi isn't keen on stopping, not now, not when everything was close to being alright again. Almost immediately he hears a sharp gasp and the blond pauses to glance up at the intruder, finding Jungkook with his hands shielding his eyes, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Oh, oh that's so disgusting. Namjoon said it's important, so could you two just.. Please stop doing whatever you're doing, it's gross." 

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


There's a sleek black limousine inside the compound ready to leave the building, and Yoongi is mainly aware of this fact because its horn keeps honking every nanosecond in a feeble attempt to get him to hurry up. Dark eyes flicker over his ensemble in the mirror; he's wearing a satin black shirt tucked into a pair of loose black slacks equipped with a gold chain hanging around his neck. He thinks he looks tacky and ridiculous, but this next mission required the high fashion attire.

  


Jimin is waiting by the bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, dress-shoe covered foot tapping impatiently against the floor. "We already established you're gonna be the sexiest guy there, so could you stop preening like that? C'mon." 

  


Dark eyes flicker from his reflection to the sight of Jimin who is dressed immaculately. He looks like a prince from one of those Disney films, his hair recently dyed an ash gray, shirt a half-buttoned black shirt with a satin blazer draped over his shoulders. His lips are a bright cherry red, more so than usual, and Yoongi briefly ponders whether or not he had added a little extra color there.

  


"I don't preen," murmurs the blond defensively, running his fingers through his mussed locks; he made a mental note that he needed to dye his hair once more, the roots were a dark midnight and contrasted greatly with his current hair color. " _Asshole_." 

  


Yoongi brushes past Jimin, grin playing on his mouth, and it immediately broadens when a hand grabs a handful of his ass and squeezes. "Your favorite asshole." Jimin corrects flippantly, crowding behind the blond as he strolls toward where the staircase was located, ignoring how Jimin is pressed flushed behind him, hands firm on his hips. 

  


-

  


Jin is really into his role for the day, which was their personal chauffeur. He even speaks in an obnoxious accent to make the act believable even though no one would be suspecting the chauffeur to be a master criminal. He wears a tuxedo with a bow-tie snug against his neck, black shades in place over his eyes as he glances at the two through the mirror. 

  


He's parked in front of the entrance of the building—actually, no, it's more of a palace. It's the massive mansion of the city's mayor, who was hosting a party to sell a few priceless gems in his possession, mentioning something about charity but the proceeds would mostly likely go straight to his pocket for a rainy day.

  


The faux chauffeur glances over his shoulder to assess the two, nodding in approval at the choice of clothing the two adorn. "Look at that, Yoongi actually looks like a gentleman for once." He scoffs loudly when he receives a middle finger in response. "I hacked into the system a few days ago and got your invites into the computer, so don't fuck up, please. I worked way too hard for this." He glances more specifically at Yoongi, who isn't paying him any attention. "Plan is simple: mingle, wait till everyone's at the auction, then snatch the gems hidden in the mayor's safe."

  


Jimin elbows Yoongi in the ribs, earning a grunt in response, then nods his head in the direction of the steps leading up to the mansion doors. "You gonna open the door for me, Agust?"

  


"You're loving this, aren't you?" accuses Yoongi with a snort as he exits the vehicle and slides around to the opposing side where Jimin resides, peeling the door open and offering the man a hand. "Let's get this over with, Christian." 

  


Jimin practically beams at the mention of his newfound code-name and eagerly accepts the hand presented to him, exiting the vehicle and placing his hand in the crook of Yoongi's arm. Yoongi's hand immediately shifts to the side of Jimin's waist where he can feel a holster attached to his hip. The blond grins fondly, sliding his hand beneath the material to drag the pads of fingers along the cool metal.

  


"You should've put it somewhere less noticeable." notes Yoongi as the two approach the intricately detailed double doors of the mansion, which is left ajar, allowing the sounds of the party to fill the silence outside. 

  


Two burly bouncers are located just outside of the door with two data-pads plastered in their hands. Each person is permitted only if they were on the exclusive list, leaving the duo to chuckle about those who had been rejected and escorted off the premises by the bald bouncer. Finally it was their turn and Jimin had no worries, but Yoongi did keep a hand hovering over the holster plastered against his thigh. He taps against it deliberately, not unwilling to use force if necessary.

  


The bouncer prompts their names and Yoongi offers it over. It takes a few moments for the bouncer to search for the names presented to him before he gruffly mumbles a low 'welcome' and allows them entry. Almost immediately the duo are bombarded by scent of savory sweets and the more powerful smell of various meats being cooked fresh for the guests.

  


Glancing at each other, it was clear what the two would be doing first, even if Yoongi hadn't heard the sound of Jimin's stomach rumbling. Yoongi parts his mouth to make a remark but the glare that Jimin sends him is enough to convince him to not speak on it. Instead he weaves through the various bodies surrounded by small tables conversing about nothing important, probably about how much they had made that week and what perverse things they had desired to spend it all on.

  


When they make it to the table full of food, the duo take a little bit of everything then scamper off to one of the large tables near the center of the room. The table they chose was a little off to the side and was vacant, thankfully, so the two could talk in private without fear of eavesdroppers. Jimin is moaning quietly at the taste of the hor d'oeuvres, plucking up the tiny appetizers and devouring them with a content smile.

  


"I was thinking about before, when I told you I wanted to take you somewhere nice for vacation." Yoongi starts, fiddling with the food scattered on his plate, not really as hungry as he had originally thought. "I mean, I'm down for anywhere, what about you?"

  


Jimin looks thoughtful for a moment, chewing and swallowing, head canting to the side. "I haven't really thought about it, I'm not gonna lie." Yoongi fights the crestfallen expression that threatens to cross his features. "We don't really have time to play-house, you know." 

  


Yoongi reaches for his glass and downs his cocktail, licking his lips of the delectable liquid afterward. He eyes Jimin imploringly, intrigued by the flush that taints his cheeks. "Do you think that's possible for us? Playing house and I don't know, just not doing _this_ anymore?"

  


One of Jimin's hands disappears beneath the tablecloth to rest on Yoongi's thigh, fingers moving against the fabric of his slacks. He shrugs a halfhearted shoulder then squeezes Yoongi's thigh reassuringly. "Is that what you want?"

  


"I don't know." 

  


Another impassive look flickers across Jimin's countenance as he processes the statement, dark eyes searching Yoongi's for a brief moment, before glancing back down at the plate on the table. His brows furrow and he opens his mouth to voice his thoughts but is interrupted by a young couple plopping down at the table across from them. Yoongi's expression goes stoic then, glancing at the couple suspiciously, receiving a warm smile in response.

  


"I hope you don't mind us," speaks the young woman in an almost apologetic voice. "I'm tired of the politics." 

  


Neither say anything but the duo do manage what they can only hope is an understanding smile. The atmosphere has gone tense and the two don't know whether to get up and switch tables or sit and endure the curious glances the couple is shooting toward them. Jimin reaches for his napkin, dabs lightly at his mouth, then excuses himself, ultimately leaving Yoongi alone to face the couple. 

  


"Is that your boyfriend?" pries the husband of the young woman, trying to come off as casual as possible. "Husband, maybe?"

  


Yoongi reaches for his glass once more then immediately drops his hand upon the realization that it was empty. He tries his best not to look annoyed by the question, but it irks him nonetheless. "Something like that, how can you tell?"

  


The young woman flushes then places her hand over her husband's on the table, twining their fingers effortlessly. "It's all in the eyes, they say." She positively beams then and leans across the table, as if she were speaking a secret. "You look at him like he's the sun and moon." 

  


"Oh yeah?" Yoongi decides to humor the young couple, he just wishes he had more alcohol in him to drown the feelings consuming his insides. "You can tell all that from a look?"

  


The young man purses his lips then whispers something in the young woman's ear. She playfully slaps his bicep and the two break out into quiet, reserved laughter. Yoongi feels like he's intruding on a special moment and finds himself glancing at anything but the chipper couple across the table. His brows rise and subsequently fall as he hears them whispering to each other, not that it's much of a whisper, not when he can openly hear them chattering on about him and Jimin.

  


"Sorry about that, it's just.." Her voice trails off and she glances at her husband, smiling to herself. "It's nothing, really. I do think he wanted you to follow him, though." 

  


Yoongi doesn't breathe another word to the couple, doesn't even want to waste his breath. He manages a kind smile but then abandons the table in search for the gray-haired man, but not because the couple encouraged him to do so. He buries his hands deep within his pockets as he glances about at the many faces meandering about, but none of them belong to Jimin, and that leaves him disappointed the more he searches.

  


That couple was disgustingly saccharine and he honestly wanted to choke seeing them go on as they had. He muses that the two are only pretending to be so sickeningly in love, that maybe one was cheating on the other or some other unfortunate event. There was no way that reality had been that kind to them, leaving them only sunshine and rainbows to dawdle on. He snatches up another glass from one of the waiters waltzing about, downing it quickly, then disposing of it on a different waiter's tray.

  


He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and checks it, discovering it was a text from Jimin with a photo of one of the hallways. He mentions the location and where to find him, and Yoongi is already springing into action. No one is paying attention to him, and for that he's grateful. It doesn't take long to jog up the winding staircase to the third floor of the mansion, meandering down the corridors until he finds the hall Jimin had been lingering on.

  


Sounds of a struggle are audible from the next corridor over and he's already sprinting before he can process exactly what was occurring. What he discovers is the sight of Jimin engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a man twice his size, fist flying and legs kicking forward to deliver a swift kick to the man's round face.

  


Yoongi catches Jimin's eye and springs forward onto the giant's back, sliding an arm around his neck and tightening it. Fingers, thick like sausages, go to his hands, scratching at them desperately, back writhing back and forth as he attempts to shake Yoongi's weight off. Nails are scratching at Yoongi's face, pulling at his blond locks, anything to rid him off his form.

  


Jimin takes the initiative to continue his assault and balls his fist tightly, delivering a firm punch to the center of the man's face, and almost instantaneously blood is gushing from his nose and the man is left breathlessly howling in pain. Yoongi manages to keep his arm around the struggling man's neck, feet finally back on the floor as the man crumples to the ground, face reddening and breathing becoming labored.

  


Yoongi glances up at Jimin, bottom lip a bloody mess, a knot forming at the top of his head near his hairline. This is enough to enrage the blond, who has the behemoth pinned beneath him. He loosens his arm around the man's neck and in one swift motion, the man is knocked cold to the ground, rolling over onto his back to stare up at Yoongi before losing consciousness.

  


There's a peculiar glint in Jimin's wide eyes, one that's ardent and burning. He swipes his arm across his mouth, smearing the scarlet substance, before licking his lips to rid of the blood there. Yoongi mimics the action instinctively, wetting his own lips before finally rising to his feet, running digits through his locks to slick his hair back down properly.

  


"I have the weirdest boner for you right now," admits Jimin with a bashful quirk of his lips, jerking his head in the direction of the intricately decorated door of the mayor's bedroom. 

  


Yoongi tries to concentrate on the door up ahead and not the sway of Jimin's hips, it's like he's taunting him and tempting him to forget the mission and drag him into one of the unlocked rooms to have his way with him. And he know for a fact that the little shit is doing it on purpose, especially with how he allows his gaze to linger on Yoongi's eyes then flicker down to slacks, quirking a suggestive brow. 

  


"Cock-tease." accuses the blond as he twists the knob, only to find that the door is locked. "Why am I not surprised," he murmurs with a scoff as he reaches awkwardly into his slacks, earning a snort from Jimin, to retrieve his gun. 

  


He takes a few steps back, using one of his arms to ease Jimin back along with him for preemptive measure. He aims the gun near the knob and watches as it pierces a hole into the wooden surface, he shoots another two rounds just for added flare until it creates a big enough hole for him to stick his hand through. It doesn't take long to unlock the door and creep inside, glancing about the large space for where the safe may be located.

  


Jimin points toward the closet while Yoongi hovers near the bed, searching the nightstand for a potential pass-code to the safe. He doesn't find anything, not even a notebook, and releases an exasperated sigh. Why couldn't things ever be simple? What he does find is a Rolex case, one with the watch still nestled comfortably inside. He smirks smugly and snags it, attaching it to his wrist and admiring how it looked.

  


He notices the loose piece on the side and fiddles with it, quirking a brow when it falls apart and the face of the watch pops out of place. He lifts it tentatively and discovers a tiny piece of paper covered in a numbered scrawl. He snaps his fingers toward the closet where Jimin was lurking to garner his attention then triumphantly raises the slip of paper.

  


"That's cute." regards Jimin, beckoning the blond over with a finger. "I found the safe as soon as I walked in, I was just waiting on you."

  


"I just want you to remember you can't suck your own dick," murmurs Yoongi as he eases up behind Jimin, arms winding around his slim waist, allowing the gray-haired man to lead him toward the safe deep inside the over-sized closet. 

  


Adrenaline from locating the required items leaves Yoongi with a heady high, his face burying in the side of Jimin's neck, his hands sliding beneath the thin material of his shirt to glide along the warm skin of his abdomen. Jimin ignores him for the most part, though he does cant his head to the side, allowing open-mouthed kisses to press against the column of his throat. 

  


His dark eyes scan the slip of paper and begin the steady twisting of the lock, inputting each number until it relents beneath his administrations. The lock is placed to the side and the jewels are on full display once the safe is opened completely. Sapphires necklaces are hanging up on one of the small stands, diamonds are in a velvet pouch glittering from inside, glinting from the lights up above. There are pearl earrings scattered about along with a variety of other gems lounging about in their breathtaking glory.

  


There's a velvet box in the back that captures Jimin's attention and he swats at Yoongi and bends at the waist to retrieve it. Yoongi's hands go to Jimin's hips then, releasing a breathy sigh when the gray-haired man teasingly swivels his hips as he plucks up the box. He straightens then, coins the blond a coy look over his shoulder, then proceeds to open the box.

  


What he finds is the rumored ring the mayor had purchased as a twentieth anniversary present for his wife. It was a diamond, one he had purchased from one of his friends in France, one that was said to be rare and one of a kind. This was the jackpot the duo had been sent to retrieve, though he wouldn't mind snatching a few souvenirs for himself.

  


Jimin pockets the quaint box in his pocket and is grateful that his dress pants aren't restrictive, it was much easier to hide bulky items with these kinds of garments after-all. He passes Yoongi a few choice pieces, watches as he tucks them into the multiple pockets strewn about his slacks; his back and front pockets were drowning in luxurious jewels and he had eventually run out of room, which meant that Jimin had been left to acquire the rest.

  


Eager to abandon the mansion to celebrate the win of the night, the two exchange a quick peck and are sneaking out of the room without a trace. The guard that had been previously incapacitated had disappeared and the duo exchange a look, knowing that it meant trouble, though they silently hoped that it wouldn't.

  


The two carefully tip-toe through the corridors, strategically avoiding any footsteps that sound too close. Eventually they run into a guard, who questions them about why they were wandering the halls and if they had seen anything suspicious, to which they retort that a giant man had been seen scurrying about with pockets overflowing with precious jewels.

  


The guard instructs them to go downstairs and stay there in cause of an emergency situation, and the two are more than eager to return to the crowded area to better blend in with the crowds. And that's exactly what they do, though the mansion is officially put on a lock-down; the mayor requesting that each guest is thoroughly checked for any potential jewels.

  


Yoongi and Jimin are plastered against a wall, the blond quickly phoning Jin, telling him about the issue that had arisen and instructing him to drive to the front entrance as soon as possible. Guards were beginning to encase the large open area and it was beginning to make the duo anxious, especially since the jewels were starting to weigh heavy in their pockets. 

  


An idea occurs to Yoongi and he suddenly collapses onto the ground, even taking Jimin by surprise with how boneless he appeared. Jimin notes how Yoongi clears his throat and the gray-haired man is falling into a heap beside him, placing his head within his lap and brushing his hair back from his face. It garners the attention of those around them and even a few guards, who rush over in concern, overlooking the situation with wide, bewildered eyes.

  


"What seems to be the issue here, sir?" demands one of the guards, bending down onto a knee and reluctantly reaching out toward Yoongi in an attempt to assist them.

  


"My husband," Jimin gasps sharply and reaches for one of his hands, holding it up to his chest. "He had just eaten a few hors d'oeuvres and now he's—I think he's having an allergic reaction to something and, fuck, I forgot to bring his—his—.." 

  


The guard clears his throat, "Epi-Pen?" offers the man casually, to which Jimin is nodding vigorously at.

  


"We live a few city's over and if I don't go right now, he could—He might—"

  


The guard's expression hardens and he offers a gruff grunt. "No one is allowed to leave until the mandatory check is done. How long do you think he will be able to—"

  


A woman's voice is heard then, speaking up and clicking closer on her heels. She lifts a forefinger and clears her throat, garnering the attention of the guard. "Excuse me, but as a nurse, it is highly recommended that he immediately leave and retrieve his epi-pen otherwise he could suffer from a severe allergic reaction that could ultimately result in death." It's the same young woman as before, and she's looking down at Yoongi in empathy, placing a hand over her heart. "The mayor doesn't need another scandal, not when reelection is right around the corner." 

  


The guard looks calculative, like he's honestly considering what she was saying along with weighing the rest of the options he currently had. He must have agreed with the woman because he disappears to consult with the other guards momentarily before returning and alerting the two they could leave. And he's kind enough to offer to carry Yoongi to the car outside, but Jimin is quick to reject it.

  


The gray-haired man spares a perplexed look at the woman who is still standing there looking apprehensive with her husband, lifting a dainty hand to wave good-bye. He glances back at her multiple times, confused as to why this stranger would even think about helping the two make a hasty escape, but he doesn't question it for long. When he's finally outside, the two jog off toward the limousine where Jin is waiting, the vehicle speeding off leaving plumes of smoke in its wake.

  
  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll the mic drop remix had me sh00k down to my core ; the boys were fire, my son desiigner was lit, everything about it was amazing

  
  
  
  


  
  
  


Rain thunders against the tin roof of the warehouse the team has assembled within, creating an ominous rhythm that leaves Namjoon, stationed behind a wooden table he had constructed, drumming his fingers impatiently against the surface. He blinks at the large wooden doors still sealed closed then spares a glance at his watch, tongue flicking against the hard candy within his mouth, the taste of cherries filling his taste buds.

  


Fifteen minutes had passed since the scheduled time and he was incensed. Usually he stayed in the background calling the shots, only very rarely getting directly involved in "transactions" as he fancied calling them. Yet there he was taking time out of his busy schedule to humor the clients they had acquired nearly a week ago, growing impatient as he watches the hand flicker on the face of his watch.

  


Yoongi is lingering by the wooden double doors, leaning casually against the worn panel, arms crossed over his chest. As per usual, he had been assigned as Namjoon's protection for the time-being, the only other person present in the room. Dark eyes flicker to the ceiling beams above, eyes narrowing as he notes the creaking there, lips pursing into a firm line.

  


Minutes pass until a pounding knock is heard against the wooden doors, reverberating through the otherwise silent warehouse. It could only be the client, he knows, but he still peeps through a tiny hole in the panels to observe the perpetrator; and it's them. He fiddles with the iron latch until the doors squeak open on their hinges, revealing five men dressed in newly dry-cleaned clothing.

  


He jerks his head in the direction of Namjoon, who rises almost immediately upon the sight of the small group. "My mom, bless her heart, always taught me that it was rude to be late." expresses the brunet, dimples making an appearance as he forces a tight smile. He beckons the men closer, then drifts to the side where a row of cargo boxes rest.

  


The brunet makes eye contact with Yoongi, who trails cautiously behind the group, then nods to where the crates rest. The blond smirks to himself, brushing shoulders with the group as he shoves past, opening the lids one-by-one, drifting behind them to motion toward its contents. Dark eyes glance at the surveyors, finding eyes widening in fascination.

  


"We got all the good shit," expresses the blond as he snatches up one of the guns, shifting it this way and that, letting the potential buyers get a good look at the merchandise. His fingers caress the scope on the rifle fondly, smirking to himself. He raises the gun, points it toward one of the members of the group, peeks through the piece; each member goes tense then, taking a calculative step back.

  


Namjoon clears his throat and crosses his hands firmly behind him, strolling casually along the weaponry sets present. "Go on, pick whatever you want." He pauses thoughtfully, shifts to stare at each face individually. "If you got the money, we got the merchandise. Simple as that." 

  


The self-proclaimed leader of the group, or at least the least frightened of the bunch, takes the initiative to step forward and peruse the broad collection. "Never shown up empty-handed in my life." He glances over his shoulder at one of the members, shoos him away to retrieve the case of cash Namjoon had been promised. "I didn't expect you to come through, honestly." 

  


One of Yoongi's brows twitches at that and he just barely manages to contain a laugh at the expression that crosses Namjoon's face. He gently places the gun back into its case, studying the faces of the opposing group carefully. One of the brunet's hands moves to the piece concealed beneath the thin shirt he adorns, tempted to use it, but restrains himself as the rest of the group inches closer to examine the weaponry more intimately. 

  


Eventually the one sent away returns with a case that he places upon the wooden table Namjoon had been at earlier, hands smoothing over the top of the briefcase. He meets the leader's eyes then glances at Namjoon, who looks at him expectantly as he nears closer, motioning for him to open the case. The man's throat visibly bobs when the brunet pauses just at his side, eager to lay his eyes upon the winnings of the night.

  


The man's hands tremble as he goes to unlatch the case, fiddling with it momentarily, before flipping it open to reveal bills stacked neatly together, tied by rubber bands. Dimples make an appearance once more, though his grin is still lacking sincerity, as he plucks up one of the bands and peels one single bill from the stack. 

  


He glances at the man once more, then barks out a laugh. "It's just a precaution. Have to make sure you're not trying to play any games." He holds the bill to the dim lights overhead, can see the inked seal visible and claps the man on the back. "See? This is what I was saying before, we could be great friends, you know." 

  


Still suspicious of the group, however, Yoongi keeps a keen eye on the ones still observing the cases. His interest is piqued when he notices peculiar movement from one of the buttons on the shortest one's shirt, face concealing his realization. He glances at the man's face now, notices how he fidgets beneath his gaze, then leans across the casings to address him.

  


"Red really is your color," casually regards the blond with an overly-saccharine grin playing upon his mouth. The man fidgets and shrinks even further into himself, awkwardly tugging on the lapels of his blazer, gaze flickering to the open case instead of Yoongi's face. "And this one here," notes the blond as he picks up the one the latter had been admiring, subtly flicks the safety off. 

  


Namjoon notes the change in atmosphere and closes the lid to the case himself, hand resting upon the sleek surface. "Pleasure doing business with you," he holds a hand out and the man hesitantly reaches out to accept it, hurriedly snatching his hand away when shots rang out.

  


"This one agrees with me." finishes Yoongi as he applies pressure to the trigger, noting the thud the man makes when he collapses to the ground. 

  


Before the others can react properly, more shots are fired and the scent of powder residue saturates the air, overwhelming the two standing figures overlooking the scene. Yoongi fiddles with the safety once more then carelessly tosses it back into the case, swooping down into a squatting position. He reaches out toward the peculiar button and tugs, reeling out a thin black wire in the process. He clicks his tongue, silently scolding the ignorance of the group, peering into the crackling camera. 

  


He snags at the wire and places it at eye-level, shaking his head in disapproval at whomever may be on the opposing side. "You fucked up, you hear me?" He frowns and tosses the button onto the floor, rising to smash the device beneath the heel of his sneaker. 

  


Namjoon coins Yoongi a look, one that reprimands him. "You made a mess." His nose crinkles in disdain as he grabs onto the handle of the case, making a stride toward the double wooden doors still slightly ajar. He glances over his shoulder: "Clean it." 

  


The blond grinds his teeth, tongue sliding along the backside of them, offering an affirmative nod in response. Chortles of laughter erupt from the ceiling beams, a pair of legs now freely dangling from the side. A rifle is slanted across his lap, and a broad grin is plastered across his mouth. "Get your ass down here and grab a mop." shouts Yoongi, hands cupped over his mouth.

  


Jimin snickers once more but rises nonetheless. Dark eyes watch as the gray-haired man effortlessly trapezes across the squeaky beams, not an ounce of hesitancy in his gait. He has a feline grace to him, one that entrances Yoongi, who stands there with his lower back pressing into the side of one of the tables. More shuffling is heard until the younger male is sliding down the length of the latter, dropping the gun to clatter noisily onto the floor.

  


He only pauses when he's standing right before Yoongi, who he manages to tower above at this angle, looking down at him and reaching forward to swipe at the scarlet specks staining his cheek. "Your mess, you clean it." He states sternly, poking the latter dead in the chest, lips quirking into a smirk. "Be a big boy for once and take care of your own shit." 

  


Yoongi darts a hand forward and lightly wraps a hand around Jimin's neck, not enough to cut off his oxygen supply but enough to leave him gasping sharply. "Ride or die, right?" He receives a broad smirk in return, dark eyes glinting beneath the dim lights above, earning an answering nod. 

  


"Ride or fucking die." 

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Weekends were the best, mused the blond, as he tips back the brown glass of his whiskey. He takes measured sips, doesn't want to down it like he usually does, eyes concentrating on the sight of Jimin dancing on the crowded floor beside Taehyung. Times like this made the job worth it, made him ponder if things could always be like this if he had the balls to actually leave the organization.

  


Namjoon is seated on the stool beside him, Jin half-sitting on his lap and half-standing, murmuring something into the leader's ear; he figures it's sweet-nothings, those two always had a strangely romantic relationship where one would often buy the other dumb things like roses or expensive bottles of wine. It was still nice, though, seeing the dimpled man with a genuine smile for once, none of the manufactured, feigned shit he was used to.

  


He glances to the side at Jungkook, who is idly sipping at his own drink, lips hovering over the rim when he's satisfied. His lashes are fluttering, doe eyes keen on Taehyung, lips twitching down into a small frown as he watches Jimin and the brunet drift closer together. The raven notices Yoongi's staring and glances at him, then to the duo on the dance floor, and back.

  


"How are you okay with this?" splutters the raven abruptly, absently fiddling with the side of the glass. "I know they're just friends, but this isn't—... I don't like it."

  


Part of him doesn't even want to warrant a response to the words being spoken, but he takes another sip, feels his general annoyance diminishing. "So, why aren't you over then, then? If you got a problem, do something about it." retorts Yoongi, snorting when Jungkook releases an exasperated sigh.

  


The youngest members runs nimble fingers through his mussed locks, shifting to place his glass back onto the counter. "I'm not like you." murmurs the raven, averting his eyes from the latter's.

  


"No shit, who is?" Yoongi muses aloud as he takes another few swigs until the glass is empty. He slides it onto the slick counter then faces the duo still dancing on the floor. "Grow up and do something about it if it bothers you that much." 

  


During the brief exchange, two men had squeezed through the crowd to hover around the dancing duo. At first Yoongi thinks nothing of it, even offering a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat when Jungkook voices his concerns. If something goes down, he knows that the two are capable of handling it themselves, though he wouldn't hesitate to stride over there if need be.

  


Lips are moving and Jimin, whose generally lively and animated, purses his lips and rolls his sleeves up. Beside him Taehyung is sizing the bigger of the two males up, looking him up and down, shoving him harshly. This creates an issue, as Yoongi knew it would, and fists start flying back and forth. Almost instantaneously he's meandering through the crowd, Jungkook plastered to his back, even shoving past him in his haste.

  


Jimin is dodging blows like a professional by the time the two make it to the scene. Off to the side, Taehyung is occupied with pinning the smaller of the two to the ground, an arm bent behind his back at a painful angle. Jungkook is gripping the man by his collar, tugging him off the grimy floor, and sends his head bobbing back with the force of his punch.

  


Meanwhile Yoongi is knocking the man in the knee with his shoe, following the action with a firm shoe to the face. Jimin is grabbing the blond beneath the arms, preventing him from inflicting any further damage, towing him away from the scene and keeping him subdued. Sirens ring from outside and the team is left groaning in response, knowing that some lunatic inside the club had decided to ring the police; as if they hadn't run into the police enough yet.

  


There are far too many people clumped together for the team to make an escape, which ends up with Yoongi along with the rest of the men involved pinned against the brick wall of the club, hands firmly behind their backs. Jimin is two men down from him, resisting arrest, spouting on about self-defense and how it wasn't a crime. 

  


There are only two officers on the scene, an older woman, who seemed peeved about having to arrest such a large group, and an older man, one that is far too rough for Yoongi's liking. The policeman is shoving a knee into Jimin's lower back, attempting to restrain him with a pair of handcuffs, while the woman shakes her head dismissively.

  


The gray-haired man snaps his head back, catching the officer in the forehead, forcing him to drop the cuffs and simultaneously grip at the blood dribbling from the area. He curses, shouts at the woman to do something, but she doesn't. Jimin takes the cue while the duo are distracted to press off the brick wall and make a run for it, which is soon followed by the rest of the team, and the men who had started the whole ordeal in the first place.

  


The policeman staggers to his squad car, grabs the radio, and alerts other officers in the area that there were delinquents resisting arrest and on the run along the block. Not that any one of them cares, no, not when they're already halfway down the street and swerving on their sneakers onto another. Jimin glances back over his shoulder, finds Yoongi struggling to keep up, and glances about for another form of escape.

  


There's a brick wall leading into an alleyway and he thinks fast, breaking off the pavement to the wall, easily gaining footing and climbing over it, yelling at the others to follow his lead. Each man hops over one-by-one, aiding the struggling members, until eventually they're all sliding down the length of the wall and panting.

  


Yoongi gazes at Jimin and immediately bursts out into a fit of laughter, which is contagious apparently, because Jimin joins him in unison. The two lean against each other, choking on chortles, the gray-haired man feeling the prick of tears in his eyes. The others are a mixture of perplexed, bewildered, and furious at the reckless display, murmuring among themselves about the insanity of it all.

  


"You're fucking insane," splutters Yoongi through a fit of breathless laughter, an arm hanging loosely around Jimin's shoulder while the other rests in his lap. "You fucking psychopath." 

  


Jimin's head thuds back against the wall, teeth on full display as he laughs. "Wasn't gonna let you go back to jail again, not like that." He replies nonchalantly, kicking one of his legs over Yoongi's.

  


The laughter ceases then and the blond's face turns stern, eyes softening drastically as he stares at Jimin. "Hey, hey." He coos, voice dropping an octave, eyes flickering to his lower lip. "I love your crazy ass, alright?"

  


It wasn't a picture-perfect situation to announce such powerful words, yet here he was in a damp and honestly disgusting alleyway confessing his feelings. Jimin offers another laugh, this one sounding more nervous than before, the gray-haired man's cheeks flushing a dark color as he sinks further against the wall. All he can do is nod, slowly at first, as if he was struggling be to comprehend the words.

  


But he doesn't repeat them, no, he just sits there and brings his knees up to his chest. He glances past Yoongi then, finding that the others had abandoned them, then offers another laugh. "I'm kinda high right now," admits the latter as he pulls himself up, offering an arm for Yoongi to grasp. "You gonna feed me or what?"

  


Yoongi utters another laugh, this one of disbelief, as he accepts the arm and is pulled to his feet. He pats his back, ridding the material of the dirt and grime that had collected there, but nods nonetheless. "What do you mean?" He retorts lightheartedly, shoving the gray-haired man and earning a yelp in return. "I got all the meat you need." 

  


Jimin's eyes fill with euphoric mirth once more, shoving the elder in return and then hopping onto his back, legs winding securely around his waist. His arms go around his neck, probably more snug than necessary, pressing his lips against the latter's ear. "Gotta eat something else for a change, asshole." Teeth nibble lightly at his earlobe, tugging on it playfully.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Fingers trace over the jagged scars lining the elder's back, dark eyes sweeping over the multitude of raised skin scattered about. He had placed the soap back into its holder moments prior but had become fascinated with the markings, ignoring how he should have been cleansing the suds away. The blond shifts and rolls his shoulders back, glancing over his shoulder to find what the issue was.

  


Jimin meets his gaze for a split second then redirects his attention back to the latter's scarred back. Knowing someone for two years should have made this a comfortable subject to speak on, but ever since he had joined the team, he had learned about one major rule. Don't pry and invade someone else's privacy, no matter how intimate the two may be. Yet there he is, raking his blunt nails across the marred edges, dragging them down to the ones that overlap at his waist.

  


Hands continue their journey and hover over one in particular, it looks less like a scar and more charred, resembling a burn. Numerous times he had noticed all of these before, he just hadn't mentioned it or spoken his concerns aloud, but now he was feeling courageous. Yoongi continues to squirm uncomfortably, almost like he can sense the topic arising, and proceeds to swat blindly at the hands prodding his skin.

  


"This one," breathes the gray-haired man into the air, gingerly gliding the pads of his thumb across the singed skin. He nearly winces when his voice echoes back into his ears, eyes flickering to a close. "I wanna know what happened, how you got it—"

  


"—Let's not." interjects the blond, tone not unkind despite the grim expression he wears. "I don't ask about yours," Yoongi shifts on his heel to face the latter directly, lips pursing and austere. "I don't ask about this," he reaches out to a thin line stretching across his abdomen, frowning at the sight of the youth flinching. "Or this." 

  


Jimin captures the latter's hand then, fiddles with his fingers till they lay flat against the scar, glancing up to lock gazes. "I got stabbed here a few years before I met you," exhales the gray-haired male, holding Yoongi's intense gaze. "Got into a fight with some kid and he pulled out a knife." He abandons his hold on Yoongi's hands in favor of combing his drenched locks back against his skull, droplets freely flowing down his face and pooling at his bottom lip. "There's nothing to hide, nothing to be afraid of." 

  


"Who says I'm afraid?" scoffs the blond, fingers lingering over the area, massaging the pad of his thumb into the rough patch of skin. "Just because you want to talk about it doesn't mean I want to or even that I need to." 

  


Once again the defense mechanism that the blond relied upon was rising and barricading him in its protective shielding. Yoongi is generally the open one, the one that doesn't mind touching on sensitive subjects, always managing to get Jimin to speak on things that he usually refused to. The blond was a smooth-talker, was used to getting his way, but rarely desired to speak about his own past or how he had accumulated a barrage of scars. 

  


Not even Namjoon knew about Yoongi's extensive history, he had searched his contacts for more information regarding the elusive blond but had difficulties securing a reliable lead. Everyone knew that he had been to prison at least once, serving a brief, ten month sentence; the blond had mentioned something absentmindedly about selling drugs for cash during high school and had managed to get a lesser sentence because of his age.

  


One of Jimin's hands go to cup Yoongi's cheek, and the blond instinctively leans into the soft curvature there. He allows his eyes to flutter closed, not wanting to talk about it, but also not wanting to push Jimin away. "Trust me, half of these you don't even wanna know how I got them." expresses the blond with a humorless laugh, withdrawing from the latter to snatch up the soap, lathering the spicy-scented bar within his hands.

  


Jimin offers his back to Yoongi now, lets him glide the bar along his shoulders blades and below. "Kinda makes me wanna know more." He offers a laugh, one that lacks true mirth. 

  


The blond places the bar back into its holder and then guides Jimin back, lets the water rain down on him. "It's bad enough they're there to begin with. It's not like there's any good memories attached to them anyway."

  


"What ever happened to you bitching about keeping no secrets?" lightheartedly taunts Jimin as he reaches for the half-empty shampoo container, squeezing a dollop into his palm and lathering it until he's satisfied. 

  


Stubby fingers tangle in Yoongi's short cut locks, fingers pressing insistently against his scalp, earning soft hums in response. "I'm not stupid, I know you don't tell me everything either." 

  


Teeth clench and grind in response, not particularly fond of the way he keeps firing back. But he remains determined, pulling the foamy bubbles to the end of the blond's hair, then reverting back to his scalp once more. "Whatever." He searches Yoongi's eyes, finds that same impassive darkness to them. Suds trickle down the sides of his face and down the column of his throat, the pleasant scent thoroughly assaulting Jimin's nostrils. "It's not like I don't tell you anything, I've told you enough. All the important things, at least. So, no, don't give me that shit." 

  


The blond swipes at the suds dribbling down his forehead, nose crinkling as it inches closer to his lids. "Not giving you shit, just stating facts." Patience is wearing thin on both sides, that much is obvious by the palpable air surrounding the duo. "If you needed to know, I would've told you. It's not important and I don't wanna talk about it, that's it. Done." 

  


Jimin tugs Yoongi beneath the spray then, tilts his chin up delicately, neck bending so the suds can't burn his eyes. "You don't have to be such a dick." hisses Jimin, eyes narrowed into aggravated slits.

  


Yoongi takes a few steps backward, effectively out of the spray and allocating himself space from Jimin. He buries his face within his hands, taking a few deep, calming breaths, before his hands travel to grasp, frustrated, at his hair. "Look, it's easy for you to talk about. It's not easy for me, I've never had to talk about this shit before and I never thought I'd have to." He feels awkward standing there, completely bare, both physically and mentally; like every layer of skin had been peeled back to reveal the innermost layer of his soul. "I'm not scared, I'm not trying to be a dick, I'm just not ready to talk about it. End of."

  


Unconsciously he reaches back toward the burn, can't quite reach the singed skin, and he finds himself somewhat soothed by that thought. It was there, that much he was aware of, but he had never went out of his way to look at it himself. It could easily be accomplished with a photograph or a well-placed mirror, but he didn't want to see it, didn't want to relive the cruelties that his past had to offer. It had nothing to do with fear, truly it didn't, but in a way it had everything to do with it.

  


The fear stemmed from the pity he was bound to receive in response to the story. How Jimin would feel the need to baby him, to constantly be there for support, like he was some porcelain doll that needed protecting—or even worse, saving. Yoongi didn't need any of that, especially not from Jimin; Jimin who had similar issues himself, but was usually the more optimistic of the two, the one he didn't get saddled down by trivialities and continued to move forward regardless of circumstance. 

  


People often said that one looks for qualities that they lack within themselves in a partner, and that much was true. Yoongi was strong, physically at least, though he was victim to his own mind at points. Whether it was getting overwhelmed, like he had when Jimin had been shot, or getting frustrated during target practice when he was failing and only centimeters off. The latter, however, possessed a mental stronghold where he breezed past the negatives in search of the positives that lay hidden beneath. 

  


Jimin relents then, nodding slowly in understanding. "No, I get it." acquiesces the youth, taking those few steps forward to close the distance between them. "One day you'll have to talk about it, though." He accepts the arms that open toward him, arms encasing Yoongi and holding him snug against the contours of his body. "Even if it takes two bottles of whiskey." equips the gray-haired man after a moment, earning a soft laugh from Yoongi.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are just snippets, honestly. i don't really wanna write a fully fleshed out fic since i still haven't finished my spiderman taekook au D: 
> 
> but lemme know what you think, yeah? or whatever you wanna see next? :D <3 xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i think of this story, lots of songs pop up, but specifically [**THIS ONE**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrujXrB1_aE) for some strange reason ?
> 
>   
> 
> 
> also, there's smut. i'm just saying. if you're not into that kinda thing, you can skip it, yeah? xx

  
  
  


  
  
  


Taehyung is slouched over one of the worn love-seats, legs dangling over the back of it, eyes trained ahead at the captive currently spouting curses every few seconds. It had no use, really it didn't, because foul language wouldn't be enough to loosen the restraints pinning him within the rickety chair he was in. Nonetheless, Yoongi found himself amused watching him try, grinning around the lollipop taut between his lips.

  


To sum up the blond's day, it had consisted of a spoiled brat mouthing off with each exhale about how his family—a predominant conglomerate in the city—would have them all arrested and consequently jailed for an indeterminable amount of time. It had left him scoffing, eyes rolling and hands tempted to strangle the teen, yet he had somehow managed to remain calm despite the temptations.

  


His palms are flat against the heavily dusted floor, no doubt leaving prints everywhere, one's he would erase when it came time to leave the old team location. Once more his fingers are twitching into the creaky, wooden floorboards when the teenager speaks up once more; this time he's blubbering pathetically about how he had plans to attend a prestigious college overseas and how it seemed that his parents didn't care about him considering how long it was taking for the deal to go through.

  


"Listen here, you little shit." Yoongi eventually speaks up, kicking his leg out to jostle the leg of the chair, the teen yelping at the abrupt action. "If mommy and daddy don't make the deal, I'll be forced to put a bullet in your head." He pauses, watches how the words seep into the latter's mind; he notes how his lower lip trembles and his body quakes. "Now I know you don't want that, but the more you bitch about your golden toilets and diamond-plated toothbrush, the more I think I'll enjoy shutting you up forever."

  


Behind him, resting upside down, Taehyung releases a snicker, one that would usually be contagious if he wasn't entirely serious in that moment. The brunet rights himself on the love-seat, crossing one leg primly over the other and bending his arm at the elbow to rest against the arm of couch. He looks at the teen in scrutiny, nose crinkling as he scans him from head to toe, lips pursing into a firm line. 

  


"I swear if he pees himself, you're cleaning it up." dismissively murmurs Taehyung as he offers one final, disdainful look at the teen. "I know this really isn't the time to ask, but do you ever think about the first time you met JM? Like do you ever just do a job and think 'holy shit, this is exactly how I met the most annoying person on the planet?' I'm just curious."

  


The blond coins the younger male a warning look, earns two hands raising defensively as well as a nervous upward twitch of the lips. "Call him that again, I dare you." Dark eyes narrow menacingly and Taehyung is left clearing his throat, sliding across the love-seat to create some distance, fingers absently fiddling with a hole in the fabric.

  


Despite the banter, the captive continues to sob, face a bright crimson and chest quaking with each cry that wracks his slim form. His form is shaking so hard, in fact, that the chair itself is rattling noisily against the uneven floorboards. Apparently he wasn't interested in the love-lives of his captors and was still shaken by the thought of his parents refusing to pay his way out of this situation.

  


Taehyung calms his demeanor enough to speak up once more, not deterred despite the elder's words. "JM never mentioned how you guys met, though. I just know that, well.." He tugs at the tie around his neck, suddenly feeling like a noose with the subject he was about to approach. "I know that you guys did the do the first time you met." 

  


When Yoongi initially hears the statement, he finds himself quirking his lips smugly at the memory. But then he remembers the glassy-eyed teenager a few feet away then rises abruptly. "This is why I never do missions with you, you never know when to shut up." states the blond as nears closer to the teen, who peers up at him with wide eyes, shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not gonna kill you," comes his incredulous voice as he withdraws his gun, shaking it in the latter's face. He does, however, swing his arm forward and sends the cool metal smacking against his temple until his head rolls forward, ultimately knocking him unconscious. "Sweet dreams." 

  


"Was that necessary?" practically shrieks Taehyung as he notes the reddened skin spreading along the teen's forehead, though he is silently grateful that the sobbing has come to a halt. "This is probably the worst day of his life, we didn't have to make it any worse." 

  


Yoongi releases an exasperated exhale, placing his hands on his hips, head lolling forward in a similar fashion to the teen. His shoulders hunch forward and he shakes his head before glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge the brunet. "You said you wanted to know."

  


Seemingly content with the outcome, the brunet proceeds to cross his legs upon the love-seat, a broad grin spreading across his countenance. He peers at Yoongi expectantly, almost like a child awaiting a fairy-tale from his mother at bedtime. Jungkook may have found his peculiar, child-like behavior attractive but it was honestly agitating, though Yoongi was kind enough to spare his feelings most of the time. Behind that innocent-looking grin was a man that could harden into steel if need be, something that was intriguing yet fearsome.

  


For extra measure, as if the teen would potentially awaken soon, he drags the chair along the floorboards a few extra feet away before returning to plop onto the floor. He stretches his legs out into a comfortable position, leaning back on his hands, head canting imploringly as he regards the latter. He still wears the same expression but is more impatient with the way he balls his hands into anxious fists, looking as if he were about to burst if his curiosity wasn't sated.

  


-

  


His breath comes out in wispy puffs when he exhales, the frigid temperature ultimately taking a toll on him. Despite being dressed in a relatively thick jacket, one that's light enough to make a swift getaway in but heavy enough that he might need to drop it if need be. There's a black bandanna tied around his head and an equally as dark face mask loosely hanging around his neck; he figured when it was time to collect, he could easily conceal his features and snatch up the equipment.

  


Fingers fiddle absently with the side of the gun, toying absentmindedly with the safety. He had been here for nearly an hour now, just sitting there poised on the rooftop of a building across the street from his mark. Apparently the young man, who had some newly modified tech, had attracted attention from the elites of the city, one's that were willing to result to murder in order to secure the technology.

  


There he was, having been scouted by a couple with high-standing in the city, arms bent at the elbows and resting on the ledge. His rifle was clutched within his hands, ready to pull the trigger when the time came, but it only seemed to elude him the more he peeked through the scope. He abandons the rifle in the mount and reaches into his pocket to withdraw the compact knife he keeps on his person, flipping it open to stab the serrated blade into the ledge.

  


By the time he manages to carve half of his "code-name," as he preferred calling it, he notices someone emerging from the tower and immediately drops the knife to peep through the scope. Men, immaculately dressed, are sluggishly leaving through the doors and are mumbling to each other, glancing back and forth cautiously. There are four in total, and they all halt by the curb where a limousine is coming to a full halt.

  


Yoongi expects the target to be the next to emerge, so he glances at the neighboring buildings, quirks a brow upon discovering of the end of a gun poking out through a crack in a windowsill. This one, however, wasn't aiming toward the tower and was instead aimed across the street. He follows the direction of the gun and scoffs, eyes rolling, when he realizes that a young man—close to his age, even—is also aiming a gun toward the tower.

  


The kid has dark, raven hair that's plastered down by a cap, plump lips set in a firm line, one eye closed while the other peers through the scope of his own, respective rifle. But the most disturbing visual was the site of the crimson dot hovering at the center of his forehead, mostly unwavering for the most part.

  


It's none of his business, really. And he could honestly care less. Yet he finds himself studying the scarlet light as it shifts to one of his temples when the man adjusts his positioning. He finds himself looking back to the person partially concealed by the blurry window, aims his gun where the scope is located. Before he can register what's going on, he hears the blast of gun-shots ringing out, and instinctively applies pressure to the trigger.

  


The scope of the gun contorts, not quite breaking off, but enough that the gunman is alerted that he had been exposed. Once more he's pressing his forefinger against the trigger, once, twice, and thrice until the gun is released and is sent spiraling down to the pavement below. When he shifts the scope back to the raven, he discovered the man is pointing the scope at him, lips pursing when he notices Yoongi and proceeds to make haste.

  


Yoongi spares a parting glance at the young man, who had been hit alongside his bodyguards, finds himself smirking smugly that the handsome stranger could manage such rapid-fire shots—precise, at that. The smirk is replaced by a scowl, however, because he would be damned if the little bastard stole the tech before he could get his hands on it.

  


He swiftly tucks the rifle into the duffel bag he had brought along, adjusting the straps, then slinging it over his shoulder. Making his way down the fire escape had been the easy part, but he encounters trouble when picking up the pace and ultimately sprinting toward the scene. He spots the raven across the street, huffing and puffing, dark hair bouncing with each pounding step on the pavement.

  


"Son of a bitch," mumbles the blond as he uses one hand to tug the face mask up to conceal his features, pressing harder and further in an attempt to beat the latter to the scene. 

  


The raven, almost like he heard the curse, glances sharply over his shoulder and coins him the middle finger. And, yeah, okay. He's definitely going to take this little shit out once he gets his hands on him. When he ultimately makes it to the scene and makes to bend down to retrieve the data, he is intercepted by a firm kick to the side, sending him tumbling to the pavement.

  


And the raven doesn't even spare him a glance as he snatches up the data, sprinting in the opposite direction from whence he came. The blond retches himself up, adjusts the strap on his shoulder once more, then takes off after him. His lungs burn, aching with the need for oxygen, but he doesn't dare stop, not when his name is on the line.

  


And the raven, he's fast on his feet, never once looking back and only increasing in speed as he moves. Yoongi hears the familiar sound of sirens in the distance, knows that they're coming to investigate the scene, but he wasn't leaving until he got what he needed. Jimin swiftly dodges a car by sliding across the windshield, rolling off the side then, on wobbly legs, sprints into an alleyway.

  


Why do they always do that, muses the blond, as he slides to a near-halt then chases him down. He manages to get close enough to shove him, sending him toppling forward, the data slipping from its small case to skip across the grimy ground. He hears a distressed groan in response, one that turns into a growl as he kicks a leg out, nearly tripping Yoongi as he snatches the case.

  


A pair of arms attach to his leg then, tugging with all its might, slowly him down and leaving him hobbling forward. "Don't make me stomp that pretty face, you don't want that, trust me." 

  


"What a gentleman," hisses the raven as pulls an arm back, knocking the blond in the back of his knee, sending it snapping and the man himself falling onto the opposing knee. Never once does he drop the case, however, and instead he throws his head back to collide with the stranger's face. "Did you just break my my _fucking nose_ with your _hard ass head_?" weakly groans the raven as he releases the latter, cupping his nose instead and watching as blood gushes from the area to collect within his palms.

  


Yoongi fights the urge to snicker at that and is instead on the run once more, making to climb the chain-link fence. Of course things aren't that simple and the enraged raven, face a dark crimson, is grabbing him by the back of the shirt and swinging him onto the grimy ground. But he recovers quickly and hops back onto his feet, temporarily forgetting the case on the ground.

  


He readies his stance, bouncing back and forth on his heel, arms up and at the ready. But the latter is quicker, delivering a single blow to the center of his face then sending one to the center of his chest, which is subsequently followed by a firm kick to the face. When he peers up at the raven from the ground, he finds him spitting out blood, poised to slam a heavy boot to his face. "You earned it."

  


When he slams his foot down, Yoongi catches it, struggling to keep it above his chest. Sirens are blaring once more, this time stopping at the opposing entry of the alleyway, one of the police officers yelling through a bull-horn for the two to halt and put their hands up. The raven hesitates before retracting his boot in favor of snatching up the case, proceeding to the chain-link fence and swiftly hopping over it.

  


Yoongi follows suit, limping as he does so, barely managing to make it when shots go off behind him. He spots the raven easing his arm into a slightly cracked window of a car, managing to unlock it and get it open before working diligently at the wires. The blond notes an officer slowly approaching the unsuspecting man and he works without thought, rolling up his sleeves and stalking closer, slinging an arm around the base of his throat until the struggling man crumples unconscious.

  


The raven, acknowledging the situation, peeks at him from the mess of wires dangling in front of his face. "My knight in shining armor," humorlessly spits the raven, nimble fingers working the wires until the engine roars to life. 

  


"I saved your ass twice." gruffly replies the blond, hand hovering on the top of the door. "Least you could do is hand over the case, I could've killed you back there." 

  


"You'll have to kill me to get this case," murmurs the raven as he rights himself in the driver seat, running his fingers through his disheveled locks, chest still heaving from exertion. He smiles brightly then, one that leaves Yoongi's mouth dry, the blond leaning forward unconsciously. "You gonna do it, then? Kill me, that is?"

  


The blond finds himself wetting his rapidly drying lips, eyes tracing over the way his plump lips twitch into a broad smirk. He retrieves the piece attached to his hip, aims it directly at his pouty mouth. "Gonna make me do it or are you gonna be a good boy?"

  


Dark brows raise suggestively at that, his eyes searching the latter's face. He leans forward, feels the cold metal against his closed mouth. His tongue darts forward, tastes metallic on his tongue, eyes flickering to meet Yoongi's gaze. "How about a deal?" Yoongi makes a noncommittal noise, curiosity aroused among other things. "I give you the best head of your life, and you let me keep it."

  


Yoongi's grip on the gun is still firm and unwavering, but his brow does quirk at the suggestion. "And if it's not?"

  


"It will be." assures the raven, holding the latter's gaze. Yoongi snorts then, withdraws the gun then pockets it within its holster, nodding his head in agreement. "Get in the car, I'm not getting arrested for fucking around with you." 

  


-

  


Despite the fact that Taehyung had desired to know the gritty details, he still found himself gagging and coughing awkwardly into his fist. He scratches bashfully at the back of his head, lips twisting into a frown. Brown eyes refuse to meet the near-onyx ones that watch him carefully, instead flickering to gaze at quite literally anything to distract himself, even if it was the sight of the unconscious teenager.

  


It wasn't often that he found himself speaking so openly about Jimin, especially to someone who he was marginally less closer with, like Taehyung. Yet there he was wearing a thoughtful expression as he continued to look at the younger male, pondering what he genuinely thought about the scenario. Not that he expected him to be astonished with his first meeting, but it had been for him, having met someone that could keep up with him in more ways than one.

  


But the latter continued to remain still, staring pointedly at a bullet-hole in the wooden floor. Then he moves, as if he had finally left his trance, and offers a reassuring smile. "You didn't—I mean, like.. What happened after that? After he rocked your world?"

  


Yoongi shrugs a halfhearted shoulder then, not wanting to disclose the rest. Not that he was ashamed or anything, but he had been tricked by the little raven. Things had been better than his expectations, which had lead to multiple rounds, each leaving him more exhausted and sated than the last. Somehow he had managed to fall asleep, his guard temporarily down, eyes fluttering closed to the sight of the raven nude and sauntering off toward the bathroom.

  


Upon awakening, he had discovered that he was unable to move. He had groggily blinked, releasing a yawn, glancing about at his surroundings. His arms had been bound by twine along with his ankles, keeping him flush against the stiff mattress beneath him. Earlier that night, the case had been discarded on the nightstand to his left when the two had gotten intimate, yet it was gone now. When he glances to the nightstand, he receives the suns rays in response that leave him squinting and hissing at its brightness.

  


So, no. He wasn't going to admit that. Wasn't going to mention how the raven had tipped off the young woman at the reception area that a man had been tied up and needed to be retrieved. Definitely wasn't going to voice how he had been found bare, body on full-display, scratches and crimson crescents from nails the night prior exposed to prying eyes. 

  


"My superior kicked my ass." 

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Trust was something non-negotiable, either one wholeheartedly trusted someone or didn't at all. It comes in many forms, like someone watching your back during a tough mission or someone there when the weight of all the constructed chaos is dragging you down into a wallowing abyss. It was letting someone see you at your weakest point, tears streaming down your face, feeling that there was no purpose to what you were doing.

  


All these thoughts were running rampant throughout the blond's mind as he peppers open-mouthed kisses down the back of Jimin's neck, pressing his hips insistently into the latter's back. His hands are frantic to touch every inch of him, gliding fondly over his taut abdomen, tweaking one of his dusky nipples, then finding solace in the weight of his cock within his fist.

  


Jimin coughs out a moan, leaning forward onto his palms, glancing over his shoulder at the blond. His breath is exhaling in labored pants, eyes darkened with his arousal, lips glistening with saliva as he eyes Yoongi. "Fuck foreplay, just—Fuck, just _fuck me_ instead." hisses the gray-haired man, pressing his cheek into the mattress and arching his back enticingly.

  


Yoongi releases a trembling breath at the sight of him; he was beautiful, he had always been beautiful. But like this, so open, so willing, it was arguably the most beautiful he had seen him. His hands settle on his hips, kneading into the flesh there, receiving soft sighs in response. Ivory teeth sink into Jimin's lower lip, his eyes fluttering to clench shut, pressing back against the blond's thick cock.

  


The blond sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, shamelessly rutting against him, sliding one hand from his waist and up his spine to grasp at the back of his neck, pushing his face more harshly into the mattress. "Always so ready for daddy's cock." rasps the blond, reveling in how his cock fits between the cleft of the latter's ass.

  


But then he thinks, too, that it was always like this. Always getting the youth to call him daddy, to feed into his desires and oblige his every whim. Jimin is practically trembling, lips parted in silent sighs, smirking smugly as he grinds back against him. Yoongi thinks, absently, that if he can trust Jimin to curb a bullet for him, that he could trust him to do anything.

  


"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He releases the back of his neck, receiving a pair of brows rising in perplexity. Yoongi leans back on his haunches, admiring the view of Jimin's perky ass momentarily, before glancing toward the ceiling for solace. "Remember you said you wanted to fuck me once?"

  


Jimin, a mixture of furious and apprehensive, shifts onto his back and spreads his legs wide. He nods slowly, processing the question, head canting imploringly. "Remember you said 'fuck no' and told me to never ask again?"

  


Yoongi doesn't recall saying that, but he probably did, so he wouldn't dare make a rebuttal against it. Instead he swipes a hand down his face, fingers lingering on his bottom lip as he thinks it over. He makes eye contact with Jimin, whose eyes are frenzied and blown in desire, then allows his gaze to sweep over his body once more; he's a lovely shade of pink, chest rapidly rising and falling, hands going between his legs to lazily stroke himself.

  


Maybe he would regret this? Maybe he wouldn't? "Try not to ruin me." lightheartedly teases the blond, he laughs—mostly to relieve the fluttery feeling within his abdomen, one that's a bundle of nerves.

  


Jimin looks at him a moment longer, almost as if he thinks the latter is kidding, before a soft smile graces his mouth. He rises onto his knees then, rummages through the nighstand to retrieve lube, then jerks his head toward the mattress. "I'll try not to, I promise."

  


Yoongi still feels awkward, however, as he shifts once more and moves onto all fours. Usually with Jimin things went exactly like this, the latter reveling in being taken from behind and plowed relentlessly until he was crying out breathlessly into a pillow. It wouldn't be like that for him, he knows, hadn't really let a partner stretch him out like that before. He's not even certain that he'll enjoy it the first time around, let alone whether or not he would be willing to go at it again.

  


Being with Jimin was filled with firsts and this was no different. Jimin looks at him with an adoring gaze, nudging at the blond's legs until they spread further apart. "If you don't wanna do this—"

  


"—I trust you, it's cool. Don't worry about it." 

  


With that Jimin flips the cap of the lubrication with a thumb and pours a dollop onto his fingers, spreading the cool substance around his fingers for adequate coverage. He halfheartedly tosses the bottle away, not particularly caring where it ends up. He inches closer toward the elder, places one hand on his hip to steady him while the other hesitates, still cautious about whether or not the elder wanted it.

  


"It's gonna be kinda cold." warns Jimin before pressing a lubed forefinger to Yoongi's ring of muscle, circling the area teasingly. Yoongi squirms, not uncomfortably, more so at the temperature than anything else. "You ready?"

  


Yoongi glances over his shoulder, shoots the gray-haired man a piercing glare. "Just do it, fuck." 

  


Jimin scoffs aloud, eyes rolling, as he pinches the side of the latter's thigh. "If I shove it in, it's gonna hurt, you asshole." It was a play on words, of course, which the blond snorts expectantly at.

  


The momentary distraction is utilized to ease the finger past the taut ring, meeting initial resistance. Yoongi releases a string of curses, insisting that it didn't hurt, just that it felt strange. So Jimin continues to sink his finger deeper, further into the tight heat until Yoongi visibly tenses. He releases a ragged exhale, arms shaking as he holds himself up. He shakes his head, like he's questioning all his life choices, but finds himself adjusting to the intrusion nonetheless.

  


Once Jimin assumes that he has properly adjusted, he begins to move the finger experimentally, curling it inward and earning a choked gasp from Yoongi. He doesn't tell him to stop but he doesn't encourage him to continue the action either; he does so anyway, revels in the thought that he would bring Yoongi the same pleasure that he brings him. He withdraws almost completely and adds a second this time, he's silently grateful that the latter was gradually relaxing, even undulating against his digits after a few moments.

  


"Is it always like this?" Yoongi exhales in a breathy whisper, pressing back against the fingers that thrust forward. 

  


Jimin hums thoughtfully, cock twitching at the sight of the elder's thoroughly flushed body. "It gets better, just wait till I fill you up." 

  


He withdraws his fingers entirely then, much to the elder's chagrin, who grumbles about the loss. Jimin feels for him, he does, because he knows what it's like to feel full and then have it all taken away. When Yoongi is inside him, Jimin feels like he belongs there and nowhere else, he tends to feel empty physically and metaphorically without his cock nestled between his cheeks. His cock continues to throb at the thought of being inside of Yoongi, something he had been craving to experience for what felt like an eternity now.

  


His fingers find his cock then, stroking himself and simultaneously spreading the lubricant, eyes trained on the sight of Yoongi's ass; pretty and pink and oh-so-inviting. Jimin gulps deeply, saliva drying up within his mouth, having to halt his strokes to prevent himself from releasing too soon. He eases the head of his cock to Yoongi's entrance, stroking the sensitive tip against the puckered skin, hearing a soft whimper emanate from the blond.

  


Without warning he presses forward, halting when Yoongi clenches around him unbearably tight, rendering him immobile. "Loosen up." Jimin whispers quietly, hands going to his hips, finger-pads rubbing soothing circles into his skin. "C'mon, Yoongs."

  


There's a litany of curses sitting at the tip of Yoongi's tongue but he can't quite voice them. Instead a pathetic hiss escapes his mouth as he adjusts to the much larger intrusion currently splitting him apart. He had expected pain, but nothing quite like this. When he was younger, he would think of experimenting, to do what the men in porn did, but he never had the courage to actually press his fingers there; it felt far too intimate, more so than taking himself within hand and sating his nocturnal emissions.

  


If someone had to do it though, he was grateful that it was Jimin. The same Jimin that was being as gentle as he could muster, whispering nearly-silent reassurances, promising that it would be okay and that he would enjoy everything soon. He grinds his teeth, eyes clenching shut, forcing his body to relax and loosen around Jimin's pulsing cock. He buries his teeth within his lower lip, nods his head softly, pressing back against Jimin.

  


Jimin takes the initiative and thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt and reveling in the hot, tight heat encasing him. His nails dig deep into Yoongi's hips, painfully so, but the blond doesn't complain. If anything he glances over his shoulder, offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile, then grasps at the sheets below for leverage.

  


"If I move, I swear I'll cum." Jimin admits, embarrassed, experimentally pulling back before snapping his hips forward. Yoongi's body shifts forward at the force of the thrust, nearly knocking the wind out of him, causing him to hiss aloud.

  


Beads of sweat cling to Yoongi's brow, head bowed inward, bracing himself for Jimin's thrusts. But he's tentative, moving at a leisure pace, steadily easing in and withdrawing. His fingers tighten in the blond's skin, eager to move faster, but not quite yet. His thrusts are shallow, hips surging forward as he exhales, sucking in breaths through his teeth when he pulls back.

  


This time when Jimin moves forward, angling his hips, Yoongi rears back to meet him halfway. This elicits a growl from Jimin, who buries deep inside Yoongi, resting there and leaning over his back to reign in his instincts. He desires nothing more than to pound into Yoongi, tight heat swallowing him deeper, beckoning him home and reeling his release through each promising clench around his cock.

  


Deciding that Jimin wasn't going to oblige him anytime soon, Yoongi lowers himself onto his elbows, pressing his face into the sheets below. He spreads his legs further apart, unconsciously clenching around Jimin, who murmurs a curse and glides a sweaty palm along his spine, over his shoulder blades, and finally to his hair.

  


Without heeding a warning, his fingers twist into his feathery locks and he plunges deep within Yoongi, repeating the action without hesitation. His hips roll, steadily gaining momentum, the sharp sound of skin slapping skin reverberating off the walls and caressing Jimin's eardrums. Each roll of his hips reels a gasp from the blond, each higher than the last, mixed in with various curses and mumbled words of how he could take more.

  


Yoongi's cheeks is pressed flush to the sheets now, his face digging deeper into the material as each thrust fills him deeper than before. He concentrates on meeting the latter halfway, clenching around his cock as he does so, intent on driving the gray-haired man's mind on a frenzy. He glances over his shoulder, cheeks a darkened crimson and eyes heavily-lidded, peers up at the latter who watches him—Jimin's teeth are buried in his lower lip, head canted back in ecstasy, hips never stuttering a beat as the sporadic pace his hips jerk continue to mercilessly pound Yoongi for all he's worth. 

  


But never once do his eyes waver, though his lashes do flutter frantically, jaw clenching as he grabs at Yoongi's hips for purchase and pulls him nearer, cock surging forward and instantly receiving a gratifying cry from Yoongi. The blond arches his back then, desires more of the fire the action provided, groaning low in his throat, which dissolves into a husky curse when the desired-effect is received.

  


"Whose the cock-slut now?" pants Jimin, who shifts and angles his hips once more, able to more fluidly rock his hips this time.

  


Dark wanton eyes flicker over every inch of Yoongi's frame; from the way his shoulders contract with each ardent flick of his hips, how his nails continue to grasp aimlessly at the sheets, knuckles turning a stark alabaster, how his mouth is left gaping with wordless cries when Jimin locates the spot he had been searching for.

  


Yoongi begins to undulate his hips, breath coming out in labored pants, face and neck covered in a thin, visible sheen of sweat. "Not me.." He pauses, sucks in a desperate breath: "F-fuck that." 

  


Jimin releases a soft snort at that, leaning forward till his chest is pressed firm and slick against Yoongi's back, sealing the two together. One of his hands find Yoongi's neglected cock, feels it twitch endearingly against his palm, tugging him with quick, jerky movements. "Fuck you," murmurs the man as he places open-mouthed kisses along every inch of exposed skin he can manage, pausing to suck possessively at the back of Yoongi's neck.

  


Yoongi doesn't respond this time, physically can't even if he wanted to. He's on sensory-overload, head swimming and abdomen clenching in response to the fist around his cock, twisting on the upstroke and paying delicate attention to the head dribbling with pre-cum. All he can do is hold on for as long as he can, to make the sensations welling within him to subside, doesn't wanna cum until Jimin is buried deep and settled to the hilt, filling him entirely.

  


That familiar, tell-tale clench occurs around Jimin's cock, and he feels himself trembling in anticipation. "Gonna cum for me?" he exhales, licking a thin strip on the back of Yoongi's neck, teeth sinking into his skin. 

  


Yoongi nods his head vigorously despite himself, breath hitching in his throat, limbs weighing heavy like lead. His body undulates frantically beneath Jimin, chasing his release, so close to the edge but not quite there. Jimin's fist tightens considerably now, and his hips thrust without abandon, and it's enough. Enough for Yoongi to curse hoarsely, eyes sealing tightly shut, clenching unbearably tight around Jimin's cock.

  


"Fuck, fuck, fuck.." It's repeated like a mantra as Jimin buries his face in the sweaty mess of Yoongi's hair, nose surrounded by his spicy musk, inhaling deeply as his hips weakly twitch forward.

  


It's not long until Jimin is pushed over the edge and simultaneously releasing in Yoongi, lashes fluttering, body possessing a slight tremor. His chest is heaving against Yoongi's back, and it's much the same for Yoongi, who is collapsing onto the mattress with Jimin still nestled deep inside of him. Jimin relaxes his weight onto his back, hips stirring and twitching with remnants of his orgasm, one of his hands sliding Yoongi's blond locks back to pepper kisses at the dark bruises forming there.

  


Jimin's hand trembles as he eases his cock from the latter's over-sensitized body, but he doesn't move any further than that. He wraps his arms around the blond, embracing him warmly, content to stay in that position for a few more, lingering moments. Yoongi doesn't seem to mind, though he does crinkle his nose in disdain, murmuring on about post-coital cuddles.

  


"I need a shower." announces the blond abruptly with a shudder. Jimin reluctantly crawls off to the side, resting on his back with his arms folded behind his head, watching as Yoongi swings his legs over the side of the bed. His nose is still crinkled in the same adorable way, and Jimin finds himself smiling fondly at it. "This is fucking gross," regards Yoongi as he hesitantly stands to his feet, wavering from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Is this how you feel when we don't use a condom?"

  


Jimin nods, lips quirking into a smug smirk, head canting imploringly. "You can handle a room full of guns pointed at you, but not a little cum?"

  


The blond opens his mouth to speak, only for no audible words to emanate, so instead he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head disapprovingly. "An eye for an eye?" He murmurs absently, jerking his head in the direction of the shower. "Or a dick for a dick?" Jimin's brows raise, intrigued, immediately abandoning the bed to usher the blond into the bathroom; what could he say? He was insatiable when it came to Yoongi.

  


  


-

  


  


It was one of those days where everyone, minus Jungkook—he had mentioned something about coming right home after he handled some business—had gathered together in the massive communal area. Hoseok was lounging on one of the lavish couches, one earphone in while the other dangles just above the cushion, eyes firm on the handheld gaming system in his clutches. Every once in a while he'll utter a curse beneath his breath, glancing up at the others, gauging whether or not they had heard it.

  


Namjoon is hanging around near the kitchen while Jin reheats some of the leftover take-out from the night prior, the two chatting among themselves, sharing smiles that are only meant for each other and immersed in their own world. 

  


The arguably most eccentric of the bunch, however, is off to the side with his head hanging low. Whenever Jungkook left, especially by himself without warning, he often found himself resigned and not as giddy as he usually is whenever the team decides to hang out. He has his back glued to the wall and his knees to his chest, arms encasing himself, frowning at the tile beneath his bare feet.

  


Fingers idly fiddle with the ends of Yoongi's hair, curling the straight strands around his forefinger, marveling at how they curl effortlessly. There's a smile on Jimin's face, a sight more common than not, dark eyes flickering over the expanse of the blond's face. His head is hanging over the back of the couch, lips slightly parted to release puffs of air, lids twitching at the disturbance from Jimin.

  


Some random crime show was playing a marathon on the television, but Jimin finds himself a little too preoccupied to even watch it. Instead he continues to stare at Yoongi, silently praising his delicate features; despite his questionable, hard interior, he possessed a beautiful exterior with pale pink lips and lengthy lashes.

  


When it was quiet, Jimin could appreciate these features more, can commit each line of his face to memory. For once he doesn't concern himself over the other's who may be watching and, in fact, he knows that Hoseok is and can see it through his peripheral. It's never judgmental, no, more quizzical and apprehensive.

  


Jimin shoots a look to Hoseok, who coughs aloud and feigns innocence, gaze reverting back to the game he had been playing. Everyone had someone, it was true, except Hoseok. He had never been fond of relationships, offhandedly joking about how he could barely take care of himself let alone another person, but the gray-haired man knows there's more to it than that; but once again, the "don't ask, don't tell" policy comes in and he lacks the courage to breach the subject.

  


His reverie is broken by the sound of a bull-horn echoing from outside of the building, dark eyes glancing to the makeshift garage door where it had emanated. He quirks a bewildered brow, glancing to where Namjoon is seen jogging off to where nearly a dozen monitors reside, the man bent over the screens and murmuring something to Jin.

  


He straightens abruptly, hands at his hips, shaking his head before glancing up at the ceiling. Jimin knows something is wrong and immediately goes to rouse Yoongi, who swats at him in retaliation, mumbling on about how he hadn't gotten any sleep the past few nights. Dark eyes gaze at Namjoon once more, finds the intellectual glancing about the establishment, lips forming unreadable words to Jin, who looks as perturbed as Jimin has ever witnessed.

  


"Everyone, listen up." Namjoon announces in a hissed whisper, pointing in the direction of the upper floors. "We knew this day would come, but it's going to be okay. We've prepared for this." His voice takes on an authoritative tone the more he speaks, glancing from each set of eyes to the next. "Get out of here as soon as you can and run. Anywhere, doesn't matter where. We'll find each other again." Jin looks at him, forehead crinkling in duress and eyes wide, looking at him inquisitively. " _Go_." He presses again, more insistently than before.

  


Yoongi is already snatching Jimin's arm, the latter going rigid and freezing at the disturbing news, legs barely able to keep up with the hasty pace the blond creates. Behind him, Taehyung is hurriedly dialing Jungkook's number, informing him of what was going on and assuring that all would be well—it might not be, thinks Yoongi begrudgingly, but he wasn't going to voice those thoughts aloud.

  


Hoseok, small and agile, is pressing past them to the upper floors; he glances back over his shoulders multiple times, making certain that he is being followed, though he does hesitate when he sees no sign of Jin nor Namjoon trailing him. But he persists, continues jogging through the corridors, knows that he has to keep running regardless of the circumstances.

  


When the team makes it to the top of the establishment, everyone notes that almost the whole building was covered in policemen. Sirens were on and flashing furiously but never does one make a sound, it was a silent kind of foreboding, the crimson and sapphire lights ominously reminding the group that there may be no way out of this situation.

  


But Taehyung, who is nervously twitching, is tugging everyone toward one of the massive trees near the edge of the roof. "This isn't, I'm not—I'm not okay." admits the brunet in a frantic voice, entire body trembling as he eases off the roof to grasp at the tree limb, hooking his legs over the wood and cautiously traveling to the base of the tree.

  


Jimin, who is as distressed as the brunet, is next to go and looks anywhere but Yoongi's impassive face. It has nothing to do with him not being frightened by the situation because he was, but the blond had to be the stoic one, otherwise nothing would get done; if Yoongi, who was supposedly bulletproof and afraid of nothing showed fear, the entire team would be pinned to the ground with cuffs chaffing their wrists.

  


By the time the team manages to stealthily descend the tree and succeed in darting, unseen, into the woods, everyone pauses and immediately goes for cover at the sound of what could only be the semblance of an explosion. It had been a deafeningly noise, one that left sharp ringing in Yoongi's ears, the blond dropping to the ground and shoving his hands against his ears to eliminate the droning. Jimin is at his side, staring with wide, terrified eyes at where the establishment had previously been; flames replace the reinforced walls, black plumes rising menacingly to taint the pristine, white clouds above.

  


Nearly all of the team are shrieking at this point, but Yoongi can't hear a thing, can only hear the ruthless ringing increasing in volume. His head pulses in-time with the ringing, vision going blurry, but he doesn't have time for weakness. Jimin and Hoseok are aiding him, something he rejects beneath his breath, not that it matters.

  


Taehyung is leading the way, brunet locks disheveled and covered in leaves poking this way and that, smacking branches out of the way in his stride. Eventually the team makes it out of the forest and onto one of the main roads, one overlooking a bridge; the distance from there to the other side would be a difficult one to cover in the short span that they had.

  


Hoseok, veins filled with adrenaline, nods his head in the direction of the opposing side. "He said to go, so let's go." He shrieks over his shoulder, taking off and dodging cars, jumping over hoods and running across roofs in the process.

  


Yoongi still hears the dull thud against his eardrums, can smell the smoke drifting in the breeze. His hands clench into fists and Jimin, poor Jimin, is pleading at him to let it go and to run. Jimin fists Yoongi's shirt, shaking him harshly, eyes alight with fear and passion and a variety of things that the blond can't process. "You need to listen to me, there's nothing you can do. We don't—.." He pauses, eyes flickering to the ground. "We don't have time for this, just—.. _Please_..?"

  


It was finally dawning on Yoongi that the world they had created was quite possibly crumbling into nothing, and that was something he would not allow. He ends up acquiescing and tugs on Jimin's arm until the two are racing down the pavement. Cars are swerving recklessly trying to avoid the team, screeching to a halt, often bumping into a leg or two. Sirens are audible from behind them and Yoongi knows there's no time to stop, not when everything they had worked so diligently for was on the line.

  


When it became clear that the cars from behind were approaching rapidly, Yoongi tugs on the back of Jimin's shirt, forces him to a halt. His chest is heaving, breathing labored, as he leans over on his knees to swallow mouthfuls of air. "Yoongi, we can't—Can't stop, not now—Not when—"

  


The blond places his hands on either side of Jimin's shoulders, as calmly as he could muster, sucking in a deep breath and looking him directly in the eyes. "Do you trust me?" Jimin hesitates, lips parting and closing, eyes wild with desperation. "No, no. Gimme an answer, I need an answer." Jimin is quiet a moment longer, glancing behind them where the cars are racing to the scene, then nods vigorously in response. "I need you to jump, can you do that?"

  


"Yoongs, I can't swim—I can't do it, we're almost there, then we can grab a car and—and—"

  


"—You said you trusted me, and I really need you to right now. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, but you gotta do this one thing for me. Okay?" Yoongi's fingers curl inwards into the material of Jimin's shirt, clenching into the fabric and tugging him into a brief kiss, allowing his lips to linger for only a moment. "It'll be okay."

  


No matter how many times the blond offered reassurance, Jimin could never honestly say he was ready for this. None of this. Being caught or otherwise. Yet here he is climbing over the cement wall and allowing his legs to dangle over the edge of the bridge. His dark eyes stare at the deep abyss below, heart pounding and pulse deafening, shaking his head frantically about how terribly he dreaded the idea.

  


But there was no time, Jimin knew this. Yet he still hadn't expected to push himself off the ledge with Yoongi's hand clutched firmly within his own, can barely register the sound of his screams, if he were even screaming at all. The last thing he remembers is the sight of water nearly face-to-face with him, can remember the stab of the water stinging his skin, can remember exclaiming beneath the waves and swallowing a mouthful of the salt-thick water.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been forever since i wrote proper smut, so i hope it's okay? :D
> 
> (( also top!jimin because why not? i surprised myself writing it tbh, jimin is def a bottom. ahem. anyway lmao ))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a fair warning, there's a little smut in this~ this is to satisfy whoever's here for taekook, and also because it sorta fit with what i was going for here?
> 
> enjoy xx

  
  
  


  
  
  


His back is leaning heavily against the thick trunk of a tree, the bark scratching his spine whenever he moves the slightest inch, reeling agitated groans from the blond. His head thuds back against the base, blatantly exhausted from his efforts, dark eyes staring up above at the lush leaves shielding the moon from view.

  


Another brisk breeze bites at his cheeks and the tip of his nose, the blond crinkling it in disdain, hands going to the latter's face in his lap. Equally as cold, which startles him, especially considering the temperature that was only going to drop lower as the evening progressed. Gingerly he smacks his hand forward, attempting to rouse the slumbering youth, earning a weak groan in response.

  


"C'mon, get up. You're gonna catch pneumonia." whispers Yoongi into the air, throat dry and itchy from the intake of the salt water, swallowing deeply and clearing his throat in a feeble attempt to soothe the soreness there. "We gotta find new clothes and somewhere to sleep, I'll be damned if we die out here."

  


Jimin blinks groggily awake, his lids fluttering open to the sight of Yoongi's face. Opening his eyes is like a revelation as the images of hours prior flicker through his mind. Soaring from the ledge, hitting the hard and gruesome water, swallowing the bitter saltiness that pierces down his throat. He gasps sharply, vaguely reminiscent of when he had been dragged to shore, coughing up the water he had downed and consequently drowning in the darkness once more.

  


Yoongi looks concerned and purses his lips thoughtfully, hands rubbing up and down the length of the latter's cool arms. Nothing more needs to be said as Jimin, still thickheaded with sleep, wobbles to get on his feet. He offers a hand to the blond, who readily accepts it, hissing at the sound of his joints crackling. Mainly because he had been in the same position for hours on end, allowing Jimin to use him as a pillow, the only comfort he would be prone to here in the middle of a forest.

  


It was better than the frigid ground, that much was evident, but Yoongi knew that there was no way the duo should be out there for any prolonged period of time. His jacket is still damp and weighing down stiff on his shoulder, so he eases out of it, tosses it halfheartedly onto the ground and stretches his aching limbs. They protest against his administrations, but this part is important, only an idiot would attempt to steal a car without properly warming up first.

  


Jimin is standing there, hands rubbing vigorously up and down his arms, glancing over his shoulder to meet the blond's gaze. The expression he wears is oddly impassive, his features not openly showing how he had felt about all that had happened. Usually Jimin was easy to pick apart, his eyes nearly always giving him away, putting every emotion that surged through his slight form on display. But now, now there was nothing. A complete absence of emotion, and it honestly frightened Yoongi to think of what was going on within his mind.

  


Blond locks stick to Yoongi's forehead and crinkle when he moves to sweep them away, plastering them to his head. Jimin watches him closely, lips a dark hue of sapphire, body possessing a visible tremor. "I'm f-fucking freezing, so cut the s-shit." 

  


If he weren't so knackered, he would probably offer a laugh at that, but he barely has enough energy to expend for that—let alone staggering up the massive hill and pick-pocketing someone for cash. "We're gonna get a car and head to a hotel for the night. Tomorrow morning we can head for the second base, sound like a plan?"

  


Jimin nods stiffly, breath coming out in little wispy puffs, strolling forward without the blond. He was compartmentalizing, muses Yoongi solemnly, trailing behind the latter and deciding to create a little distance between them. Enough that he can still see him his silhouette in the darkness and when the moon decides to give him glimpses, but far enough that Jimin doesn't feel confined like he had nowhere to go despite being in such a vast forest. 

  


Talking about what had occurred wasn't on the top of the blond's list either, but he wasn't dwelling on it. Jimin was sensitive, more so than him, which was understandable. But, with their line of work, emotions weren't something that needed to be addressed regularly. Heart-to-hearts and aimlessly expressing how he felt wasn't something that he needed, but he could understand the latter's sentiments, knows that the others were wandering somewhere—hopefully anywhere but pacing a cell, bitterly thinks the blond, fists clenching and releasing at his sides.

  


Namjoon and Jin, that was another story entirely. All he had seen was an explosion, fire scorching the tops of trees and tainting the cloudy sky, smoke emanating from the scene and drifting throughout the rest of the general area. The stench had stuck with him the most, burning rubbers and a variety of other products, stinging his nostrils and giving him a pounding migraine. He wasn't certain what had happened to them nor if he even desired to know at this point; for what it was worth, those two were like the unofficial parents of the group, taking care of everyone and making sure that everything was going according to plan, more like brothers than friends.

  


Fingers clench and release, alternating between these actions with each step forward that he takes. What he truly wanted was to release his frustrations in the form of punching something to a pulp, to take that anger out in the form of whatever was closest. But he wouldn't allow those feelings to consume him, not when he had a job to do.

  


Jimin halts at the top of the hill, the audible sound of cars swooshing by knocking Yoongi from his reverie, the blond squatting in the foliage alongside him. His dark eyes scan the vicinity, from the cluttered roads to the car park across the street, glancing about and locating a grocery store nearby. "What are the odds that someone gives us the keys to their car?" muses Jimin aloud, his voice is humorless and monotone, pale lips twisted down into a frown. 

  


Yoongi places a hand atop his head, ruffling his frosty locks, finger-pads massaging soothingly into his scalp. "Wishful thinking." He pauses, glances about at the cars slowly passing by on the road, then lightly smacks Jimin on the upper arm. "Gonna make a run for it. On the count of three." 

  


He lifts one finger, Jimin watching him intently, then he lifts another. Jimin's tongue darts out, wets his chapped bottom lip, then darts off as soon as the third finger rises. The two dodge the scatter of cars, thankful for the leisurely pace, managing to get past unscathed. Now the two were positioned on the other side of the road, eyes flickering over the small choice of cars lined up, peeking in through tinted windows to get a better view of whatever lay inside.

  


An older woman with a grocery cart is gradually approaching, her salt and pepper hair curled at the ends, seated beneath a tiny, knitted hat. Her eyes regard the two men, offering a wrinkly smile, nodding in their general direction as she reaches for her keys within her bedazzled purse. Jimin looks at the woman apprehensively, smirking smugly to himself, as he jogs the short distance toward her.

  


Yoongi follows suit and before he can speak, Jimin beats him to the punch. "Need a hand or two with these?" His voice is sickeningly saccharine, lashes fluttering delicately. There's a small, kind smile twitching across his lips when the woman agrees.

  


"Oh, yes, please." Her voice is relatively high-pitched but she appears to be grateful. She abandons her purse inside of the cart and leans precariously against it, smiling from one young man to the next. "It's a shame there aren't more young men like you two." 

  


Jimin glances at the blond then, expression sheepish and shamefaced, awkwardly clearing his throat as he continues to place the items into the trunk one-by-one. The blond speaks up then, considerably less concerned and more impatient as he helps load the car. "Yes, ma'am, we understand." Yoongi's hand lingers on the loaf of bread, the last item in the cart, then tosses it halfheartedly toward the latter. "Which is why I'm really not proud of this." 

  


Almost instantaneously he snatches up the purse, rummages through it, locates the keys from the trunk and unlocks the car doors. The little old woman is staring, a mixture of baffled and betrayed, her frail hand going to her mouth to gasp at the treachery of the duo. Jimin offers her an empathetic look, spluttering out an apology, but hopping into the passenger seat nonetheless. 

  


Before Yoongi can swerve off, he pauses, presses one of the buttons inside of the car. The old woman is startled, quite literally frozen to the spot, her small hands gripping tightly onto the cart. He rummages through the purse, retrieving an old model cell phone, handing it over to the woman. She takes it, hands trembling, holding it to her chest for safe-keeping. "Call someone to come get you, it's cold outside."

  


Tires squeal on the pavement below and the vehicle lurches to merge into traffic. Dark eyes spare a glance at the woman form the rear-view mirror, noticing how she has yet to move a fraction of an inch, cell phone still pressed tight to her bosom. Beside him, Jimin is fumbling with the controls, managing to get the heat puffing out on full-blast. He presses his hands to the small vents, wringing his hands, rubbing them together to get some circulation through his veins.

  


Yoongi relaxes considerably then, left hand gripping the wheel loosely while the other goes to Jimin's thigh, offering it a warm squeeze. "Wanna talk about it?" He doesn't glance at him, doesn't even peer through his peripheral, doesn't really have to.

  


Jimin tenses then, muscles in his thighs clenching then releasing, the younger male shifting his gaze to stare idly at the cars passing by. "What's there to talk about?"

  


The blond rubs the hand up and down the latter's thigh, can feel the coolness radiating through the fabric. Dark eyes continue to stare ahead, keeping a careful eye out for any sign of police or any other suspicious vehicles, lips pursing into a thin line. Nearly half an hour goes by like that, the silence strained and the air thick and palpable; it was uncomfortable, to say the least, and he misses the usual banter that came along with prolonged car rides.

  


Safely out of the district, he twists the steering wheel and slides into parking space a few blocks from the hotel he had scoped out. Jimin is still staring impassively out of the window when the vehicle comes to a complete halt, not even acknowledging the change of scenery. By now the sky has considerably darkened, the sun fading into the horizon, vivid pink and orange casting a soft glow over the tops of buildings.

  


Yoongi swipes a hand down his face to collect himself, leaning across the seat to open the glove compartment, sifting through until his hands touch something cold and hard. When he pulls his hand back, he brings a bright pink taser along with it, brows rising in amusement. He wiggles it toward Jimin, who blinks when it captures his attention, brows furrowing and lips twisting into a frown at the sight.

  


"That old lady could'a fucked us up if she wanted." Yoongi muses flippantly, trying his best to reel at least a smile from Jimin. It works, plump lips quirking upward into a barely there smile, but it diminishes almost as soon as it appears. 

  


Jimin takes the initiative to snatch it away from the latter, climbing out of the car and sliding it into his back pocket, stretching his aching limbs and reaching toward the sky. His skin is still cool to the touch, though his clothes are mostly dry by this point, shrunken material grappling onto his flesh. He leaves the purse for Yoongi to collect and begins to stroll along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep within his pockets, eyes reflecting the hue of the horizon above.

  


The blond rummages through the purse for a moment longer, plucking up the bills he could squander, abandoning the credit cards. Things that would be traceable were always a terrible idea, it was practically criminal one-o-one. He slides a packet of unopened crackers into his front pocket along with the bills and a small assortment of hard-candies for later use. 

  


Yoongi is relieved once he enters the one bedroom suite, almost immediately peeling off his clothes once he steps foot onto the carpet. He kicks off his shoes and abandons them by the door alongside Jimin's, noting the scattered items of clothing lead a direct path toward the bedroom. The bathroom door is slightly ajar when he enters and the lights are on, that much he can see. He continues to undress until he's bare, sauntering off to accompany Jimin.

  


He finds him soaking in the bathtub, resting his head against the tile. His eyes are facing the shower head, glaring heatedly at it, and one of his toes fiddles with the dial. Not once does he glance up to regard Yoongi, just sinks further into the warm water until his chin is engulfed, arms crossed over his flushed chest. The blond silently creeps toward the tub, Jimin shifting to make room, allowing Yoongi to slide in behind him.

  


Yoongi relaxes against the tiles pressing against his back, hands loosely going to encase the latter's waist. Jimin doesn't plaster to his chest like he expects, however, just brings his knees to his chest and rests his chin atop them. " _They're dead_." blurts the resigned youth. "They're fucking _dead_." 

  


"No body, no confirmation." declares Yoongi without a second thought. "And if they were, you can't bring them back. No point thinking about it." 

  


Jimin's shoulders hunch forward, head bowed, releasing an agitated huff. "They died so we could get out, you don't see how fucked up that is!?"

  


"I'm not gonna speak on it unless a body comes up." Yoongi retorts, head thumping back against the tiles, eyes rolling promptly. "You can think they're dead, but I'm not gonna claim that."

  


One of his hands goes to the side of the tub, rising to abandon the lukewarm water, only to be pinned by a hand slinking around his wrist. "Don't fucking touch me right now, Yoongi, I swear I'll—"

  


"—You'll what?" Yoongi challenges, shifting onto his knees, eyes flickering over the latter's reddening face. "Gonna hit me? Is that what you're gonna do?" Jimin's fingers curl inward to form a tightly balled fist, eyes hard as he scowls at Yoongi, teeth grinding loudly and jaw clenching. "You won't do shit."

  


Slowly Jimin's fingers unfurl, eyes softening and welling with unshed tears, bottom lip trembling as he collapses back into the water. It splashes out of the tub, splattering across the tiles, sloshing wildly as it settles. The blond encases the youth, holding him protectively within his arms, tucking him against his chest and shushing him before any sobs can erupt the silence. Long fingers card through his damp locks, scratching soothingly against his scalp, attempting to calm the younger.

  


No sobs emanate from the petite man, however, but his body does gently tremble within Yoongi's arms. His breathing is uneven, like he's physically restraining himself from breaking down, nails digging into the blond's skin for solace. He stirs within his arms, nuzzling the tip of his cold nose into Yoongi's neck, inhaling the vague scent of cologne that clings to his skin.

  


"It pisses me off when you do this," Yoongi makes an inquisitive noise: "When you act like you don't care one way or another, makes me feel like I'm this nervous wreck that can't handle shit. Like I'm not cut out for this anymore." 

  


"C'mon now. It's not like that, and I know you know that." murmurs Yoongi, letting the water soothe his heated skin. "Can't keep it together all the time, plus it's the guys. Namjoon brought us together, brought everyone together, so I get it. But right now, we gotta worry about what we're gonna do and how we're gonna meet back up with the others."

  


Quizzical silence is cast upon the bathroom, Jimin nibbling at his already blunt nails, leaning back into Yoongi's warmth. A litany of thoughts barrage the youth, like how the team would reconnect once more or if the fate of the elder's were genuinely up to debate. He stretches his limbs in the tub, reaching a foot up to turn the dial so hot water can pour into the cold tub, using the opposing foot to tug up the drain stopper.

  


Dark eyes watch as the water swirls down the drain only to be replaced by the water freely flowing in. Once the temperature is satisfactory he leans down to plug the stopper back in, reaching for the soap contained in protective wrap, opening it and beginning to rub it along his body. Yoongi stays plastered to the back of the tub, legs spread to accommodate Jimin's body, watching as the latter shifts so he's facing him.

  


The gentle scent of the perfumed soap fills the air and Yoongi is grateful for the distraction. "I know you're worried but we got each other, alright? We got this."

  


Jimin scoots closer to the blond, closing the proximity between them. He moves until his thighs are on top of Yoongi's, drags the pleasantly scented soap across his chest where delicate scars reside. " _We got this_." Jimin echoes the sentiment without hesitation, ultimately smiling when Yoongi puts a hand to the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together in a brief moment of tranquility.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


The throbbing in his head increases in intensity the more he strides in the opposite direction of the base. The sound of his sneakers are barely audible in his eardrums, having been overshadowed by the raucous noise of his pulse thudding instead. Never once does he look back, doesn't see the point, not when the world he had known was being diminished into nothing.

  


It isn't until he feels himself being violently lurched backward that he resonates the sight of Hoseok, yanking him in the opposite direction down the street. Bodies are swarming the duo, some taking notice of them while others generally ignore them, continuing to meander through the crowded streets. Hoseok is jerking his head in the direction of a gas station, one that Jungkook had insisted he would be at as soon as possible.

  


Taehyung is having difficulty processing the words being spewed to him, more focused on the clamminess of his palms and the slight tremble they possess. His vision is going blurry, speckled with black and white dots, mouth dry and teeth chattering. It feels like there's a fist taut around his heart, tightening as each second ticks by, the brunet slowing into a brisk walk to calm himself.

  


His fingers tug at the collar snug around his throat, feeling like he can't breathe. When the duo approach the back of the gas station, they notice the sight of Jungkook wavering impatiently from side-to-side, leaning against the car he had taken from the base earlier that day. His composure drops as soon as he lays eyes on Taehyung, temporarily ignoring Hoseok, hands going to slide up his arms and then to gingerly touch his cheeks.

  


"Hey, hey—It's okay, I'm here." expresses the raven with a reassuring smile, meeting the elder's wide gaze. "Look at me, okay? You're gonna be okay. Sit down with me?" Taehyung, previously rigid, nods slowly and allows the raven to settle him down onto the gravel below. "Can you put your head between your knees for me?"

  


Hoseok watches the scene from the trunk of the car, legs crossed neatly beneath him, concern evident in his dark eyes. He isn't certain what to do himself, though he feels that he should be doing _something_ , even if it is offering support from the sidelines. "After it happened, he just froze up." explains Hoseok quietly, a frown spreading across his mouth. "He started freaking out and wouldn't stop running. I'm sorry, I—I didn't know what else to do but let him go until we got close." 

  


Jungkook glances at the eldest, nods slowly, offers the slightest quirk of the mouth. The brunet is still trembling, even now that his head is positioned between his knees, hands shaking between Jungkook's. "Thanks for looking out for him." solemnly whispers the raven, straining to hear the latter's ragged breathing.

  


Soft pants echo echo from the brunet, shudders rattling through his lean build, head steadily rising to meet the raven's eyes. "I thought we were gonna die," he pauses and drops his gaze down to the gravel below. "I thought I'd never see you again and I—I was scared, for the first time, I was scared."

  


Not knowing what to say, the raven responds by cradling Taehyung's cheek, thumb brushing gently across the smooth skin there. His other hand stays locked in the brunet's vice-grip, serving to assure him that he wasn't going anywhere again. "We don't die," declares Jungkook confidently with a warm grin. He flickers his gaze to Hoseok, who still rests on the trunk of the car, fiddling anxiously with his thumbs, looking up to meet Jungkook's gaze. "Not _you_ , not _me_. _None of us_." 

  


Hoseok glances at Taehyung then, notices the flushed expanse of his cheeks and how his breathing is beginning to even out, ultimately releasing a relieved sigh. "You sounded like a leader just then." lightheartedly jabs Hoseok, grinning despite the intense situation. It brings laughter from the two still settled in the gravel, which in return brings a broader grin to his face, at least until he thinks about the fate of Namjoon and Jin. 

  


Deciding that he would let those thoughts allude him for now, Hoseok hops off the back of the car and travels to the front seat where the door is unlocked, swinging it open and peering over the hood. The duo get the hint and Taehyung rises to his feet, looking and feeling a lot better than he had been a few minutes prior, leading the way to the backseat with Jungkook in tow.

  


Once everyone is safely inside of the car, Hoseok starts the engine, smiling at the sound of its rumble. He glances at the backseat to regard the two younger males, finding them holding hands between them on the leather seat, then reverts his attention back to the task at hand. Sometimes, muses Hoseok, he wishes that he would be capable of allowing others into his life like the rest of the team had; everyone had someone, someone that they cherished and could so easily lose, everyone but him.

  


His fingers drum thoughtfully on the steering wheel before pressing on the accelerate, smoothly rolling off and out of the back parking lot to merge into traffic. Soft whispers emanate from the backseat and he knows it isn't meant to alienate him, but he can't help feeling that way. Oftentimes he will find himself glancing through the rear view mirror at the two, finding them sharing reassuring smiles, maybe even hearing the utter of a laugh here and then.

  


Despite being single, he was never alone. Because as he checks on the younger team members in the rear view mirror, he receives secondhand happiness, knows that he isn't alone at all. He had a family, which is arguably worth more than anything and anyone else, and for now, that would be okay with him. His fingers hover over the dial, desiring to turn the radio on, but his fingers slip away and instead he places both hands on the steering wheel. 

  


It wouldn't be right reveling in the pleasantries of life, not when he wasn't certain about the fate of the oldest two members. Part of him wants to talk about it to some extent, wants to acknowledge what could have happened, but he also doesn't want to disturb Taehyung—or Jungkook, for that matter—more than he had to. 

  


Driving halfway across town wasn't an easy feat, especially considering how exhausted Hoseok was, but somehow he makes the trek without much hassle. Everything seemed to be as the team had previously left it, the small and unassuming apartment complex still standing. He wakes the duo in the back as he drifts closer until the tires bump over a plate protruding from the dirt, a steel-plated security box rising from the ground beneath it.

  


He leans through the window, enters in the code, and is promptly allowed entry. The bottom half of the complex rumbles as it opens, the car sliding through without issues, parking near a few unmarked vehicles. Hoseok addresses the groggy duo in the back, tugging the keys from the ignition in the process. "Before you pass out again, load up all you can carry. Tomorrow we'll go searching for everyone else."

  


Taehyung nods his understanding and digs within his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, offering it over to Hoseok for safe-keeping. "Just in case someone calls."

  


Hoseok glances at Jungkook then, who is retrieving his own phone, flicking through it in search of any missed calls or texts. When he comes up empty, he shakes his head. "Nothing from me, but I'll keep this one on me just in case." The raven states as he makes to exit the vehicle, stretching his limbs momentarily, before jogging off to the assortment of weapon lockers.

  


Taehyung, however, remains still and is instead watching the latter's retreating form warily. "Our names are going to be everywhere..." He speaks in a hushed murmur, cursing lowly to himself. "Our pictures, too."

  


Fingers toy with the various keys on the key-ring, knowing nearly every car each belonged to, pad of his forefinger gliding down the ridges. "Which is why we need to focus on being more careful." suggests Hoseok calmly. "Once we get everyone together again, then we can think about switching cities. Maybe even leave Seoul for a while."

  


"I always wanted to be famous, you know." absentmindedly quips Taehyung in an almost wistful tone as his gaze wanders throughout the interior of the massive complex. "I guess I got my wish," he snorts humorlessly and slides across the seat, feet clamoring to the hard ground below. "I never thought I'd be on a _Most Wanted List_ by twenty-two."

  


Across the way, Jungkook is opening compartments and tossing guns into an open duffel bag, bottom lip captured by his teeth in concentration. He glances casually at the two still inside of the car, nodding his regards to Taehyung, who seems to be back to his usual chipper self. The brunet is glancing to Hoseok once more, this time more in parting, as he rises out of the car and proceeds to rid his jeans of the gravel and dust that cling there.

  


Eventually Hoseok is leaving the car and assisting the younger two with building a collection of weaponry. He moves with a mechanical quickness, hands grabbing at whatever looks powerful, placing them into one bag until it's full and then starting on another. There are boxes of heavy bullets strewn in the mix along with other, much smaller weapons. 

  


Nearly thirty minutes in, Taehyung begins to slack on his work, having filled a couple of bags on his own. He yawns every few minutes, one hand covering his mouth while the other lingers on a shotgun, eyes drooping heavily as he glances from Jungkook to Hoseok. Before he opens his mouth, Hoseok knows what he was going to say, so he dismisses them both. Being the eldest, and naturally next in command, he figures it was best to relieve the duo of their duties. Plus he wasn't stupid, he knew Jungkook would trail after him whether he had a say or not.

  


"Set a timer on your phone, we're getting up hella early in the morning." Hoseok directs the message to Jungkook, who is tugging his thin, white shirt over his head and tossing it halfheartedly onto one of the tables. "I'm serious, so whatever you're thinking about doing.. _Don't_. Bed is meant for sleeping." 

  


The raven flushes darkly at that and proceeds to jog after Taehyung without a word. Mostly because he detested the thought of the elder men knowing exactly what he was thinking without having to voice it aloud, like he was an open book filled with bold font. When he reaches the room, he finds Taehyung is already stripping of his own clothes, sifting through the closet to find a pair of suitable pajamas.

  


Jungkook doesn't bother him, just plops down onto the mattress and shifts, arms folded behind his head and legs extended. The brunet is humming quietly to himself, some tune he had probably heard on the radio days prior, snatching up the pajamas and heading straight for bed. Another yawn spews from his mouth as he changes into the silk top, kicking off his boxers in favor of the matching bottoms, sliding them on over his thighs then sprawls boneless beside the youth.

  


Aforementioned shifts onto his side and props himself up on an elbow, gazing down at Taehyung fondly. It's hard not to smile when he looks at him, able to temporarily forget what had occurred earlier that day, to just wind down and revel in the remaining time he had left with the elder. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad was our day?"

  


Humming thoughtfully, Taehyung allows his lids to flutter open, meeting bright doe eyes. He shrugs his shoulders halfheartedly, slinging an arm behind his head while the other rests upon his abdomen. "What's the highest number you can think of?" Jungkook genuinely sits there, counting on his fingers, and the brunet offers a weak laugh. "I was kidding, just let me sleep." 

  


"I will." Jungkook replies flippantly as he rises, limbs creaking in response to his movements, climbing onto the elder's form. Taehyung slings an arm over his eyes, lips slightly parting to release quiet breaths. Before the brunet can protest, lips already twisting into a pout, Jungkook is speaking once more: "I know you, I know how you are. When you're stressed, you can't focus. And we need to focus, so let me help you first." 

  


"I don't think you sitting on my dick is going to help me." Taehyung whines lowly in his throat, voice deepening unbeknownst to him. " _Jungkookie_ —"

  


The raven descends the length of his lanky body until he is halfway down the bed, fingers gliding over the silky material of the latter's pajama bottoms. He applies barely there pressure just above the elder's flaccid cock, can hear a sharp intake of breath emanate from above him. He glances up coyly, finds a pair of chestnut hues staring pointedly at him, brows rising and falling pathetically.

  


Taehyung doesn't say anything, however, doesn't need to when Jungkook can feel his cock stirring to life beneath his palm. Taking the slight nod of his head as approval, he glides the flat of his palm over the swelling bulge, fingers enclosing around his length loosely. Both of Taehyung's arms drape over his face now, shielding the blush that paints across his skin, hips rising in favor of Jungkook's warm palm.

  


"I barely touch you and you react like this," An involuntary shiver wracks through Jungkook's frame as he strokes his palm over the material, closing his hand around the head of his cock, squeezing firmly. "I keep thinking I'll get used to it, but I don't, it just—" He continues his administrations, gliding down his length once more teasingly. "It feels good knowing that I can do this to you, just me."

  


The brunet licks his lips then, allowing them to remain slightly parted, softly breathing Jungkook's name into the silence. "Keep doing that?" Jungkook makes an inquisitive noise, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock through the thin material. "Talking, please. Keep talking." 

  


Jungkook hums contently at the words spewing from the brunet, suckling gently through the fabric. Once it becomes unbearable, however, he hooks his thumbs in the band of his pajamas and tugs them tantalizingly slow down his thighs. One of his hands goes back to pleasuring him then, stroking him loosely and almost idly as he admires the flush that continues to radiate across his skin.

  


"Seeing you like this, fuck. It—It drives me crazy and it sounds stupid, but..." His voice trails off then, thumbing at the slit of his cock, pressing gentle pressure there that reels an outstretched moan from the latter. "You really are the most beautiful like this."

  


As receptive as usual, Taehyung starts pushing his hips off the mattress, yearning for more fervent touches versus the the gentle ones he's receiving. Those wordless pleas are answered in the form of a hot mouth surrounding him, taking him in deep, tongue sliding along the underside of his cock with each purposeful bob of his head. 

  


Hands go to Taehyung's thighs then, pinning him down, preventing him from bucking upward in his pleasure-filled haze. Jungkook relaxes his jaw, lids fluttering to a close, focusing on breathing through his nose and humming when he needs to. Fingers twist in his hair, tugging lightly, not enough to hurt but enough to have him groaning deeply around a mouthful of the elder's cock.

  


"How do you—shit, fuck." rasps Taehyung huskily, head falling back against the pillows, mouth parted in silent gasps. "You take me down so good, it's so easy for you, _fuck_..." 

  


Jungkook releases pleased hums and withdraws to give his jaw a rest, tongue lapping at the length of him, pausing to suckle ardently at a pulsing vein there. "You give me lots of practice." His voice has a dark edge to it as he speaks, tongue darting out to gather the pre-cum at the tip on his tongue. His mouth wraps around just the head this time, sucking softly, pressing his tongue flat against the sensitive tip.

  


"Jeon Jungook, I swear if you don't shut up."

  


As obedient and obliging as always, the raven reverts to his previous actions, this time bobbing his head at a more fluid pace. He lets the nails clawing at his scalp encourage him to persevere, hallowing his cheeks and allowing his tongue to caress the underside of his cock with each movement. Each breathy whisper of his name spurs him on, makes him relax his throat muscles, taking him further down until tears prick at his eyes.

  


And maybe he's doing too much, but when he peers up to gauge the latter's reaction, he finds that it was worth it. Chestnut eyes are nearly black, blown wide and sweltering, chest rapidly rising and falling. He can feel the nimble fingers at his scalp releasing and clenching, alternating between the two, knows that the unhinged twitch of his hips is a tell-tale sign of what he was anticipating.

  


He continues on, bobbing his head with renewed vigor, can taste the bitter taste of pre-cum filling his mouth. When Taehyung's thighs tense up beneath his hands, he prepares himself, lids sealing closed as he feels the first spurt hit the back of his throat. Strangled sobs emanate from the brunet above him, fingers clenching at raven locks for purchase, back arching off the bed as he releases another string of cum.

  


Jungkook takes it all, at least as much as he physically can, before withdrawing. Cloudy white dribbles from his bottom lip and down his chin, not that he cares, not when Taehyung is now gripping loosely onto the sheets below. He climbs his lanky form once more, pressing tender kisses to the elder's lips, the latter parting his own and allowing him entry.

  


Taehyung is grasping for every available inch of skin he can find, settling with smoothing along the youth's abdomen, pressing the pads of his fingers into the ridges appreciatively. The raven smirks smugly into the kiss, proud of himself, as he places one final, parting kiss to the elder's mouth. "I'll be right back to clean you up, then you can sleep?"

  


The brunet nods slowly, still a boneless mess, watching as the raven saunters off toward the bathroom to retrieve a wash cloth. By the time he comes back, the brunet has melded into the sheets, soft, even breathing filling the room. Jungkook rolls his eyes, figures it was predictable, and cleans him as best as he can with the warm cloth. He glances at Taehyung's tranquil features, how a faint smile tugs at his lips, how sated he appears to be. It hurts thinking that one day he may live in a world without someone as effortlessly beautiful as Taehyung—that one day he may have to deal with the burden of—...

  


Jungkook closes his eyes, clenching into the cloth tightly in one hand as he composes himself. " _I love you_." breathes the raven into the air, despite the person it was meant for unable to hear it.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


When the blond finally rouses, he hears the soft murmur of the television on in the background. Jimin is nowhere to be seen in the room, presumably out scouting for fresh clothes to wear or perhaps scavenging for breakfast. Either way, he wasn't near, and something about that bugged the blond as he stretches beneath the warmth of the covers.

  


What he sees on screen has him cursing under his breath, whipping the covers off his form as he glances about for his clothes scattered haphazardly about the room. He snatches up his jeans, tugging them on at lightning speed, glancing about for his discarded shirt as well. The news channel continues to spew about the blossoming story of a group of criminals that had been previously unknown until late that night.

  


When he looks at the screen this time, he finds himself punching the nearest thing to his person, which just happens to be the wall. It crumbles beneath his fist, but the pain doesn't register, not when he fears that the staff or any of the other patrons may have recognized either him or Jimin. He mumbles another curse and abandons the unkempt bedroom to search for Jimin, eventually finding him strolling in through the door moments later.

  


"We gotta go." Yoongi declares, not leaving much room for argument. Jimin has a small mesh bag full of clothes, grip tightening on it at the words from the blond, lips pursing into a thin line. "Those bastards figured out our names and got our photos posted all over the fucking news." He points in the direction of the bedroom in disdain, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing a breath through his nostrils.

  


Jimin is slinging one of the strings on the bag over his shoulder, nodding promptly in response. He leads the way to the elevator where a young woman is pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies, glancing at the two young men with a curt smile. She doesn't breathe a word but the air inside of the confined space is thick as the blond glances at Jimin, who is staring straight ahead, trying to make as little eye contact as possible.

  


Both men are completely silent during the brief ride down to the first floor, exiting as soon as possible and darting across the street toward where the car was parked the day before. Upon approaching the area, Jimin discovers that it was no longer there, grappling onto Yoongi's shirt to prevent him from venturing closer when he notes the familiar, navy blue attire of a policeman roaming about the area.

  


"We need a car." Jimin hisses lowly, watching with slanted eyes as the officer circles where the car had previously been located, writing things down into a notepad. Yoongi is peering over his shoulder, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, shifting his neck this way and that. "What, you gonna mug the cop and steal his car? Oh yeah, we'll _really_ be under the radar then." 

  


Yoongi's eyes narrow into slits as he flexes his fingers, earning a satisfying pop in response. "That's the one that shot you that day, remember that?" His voice is monotone, deeper than usual with his fury. A hand appears on his shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze, lips pressing against his ear.

  


"And I lived, remember?" Jimin breathes quietly, winding an arm protectively around Yoongi's waist in an attempt to keep him rooted to the spot. "Let it go before you get us both arrested." 

  


But the blond is already dead set on revenge, so he doesn't listen. Just disentangles himself from Jimin's loose hold, sauntering toward the officer, abandoning the youth hidden behind the store wall. Dark eyes watch him cautiously, willing to drop the mesh bag and rush over in a moment's notice if he was needed.

  


Yoongi has it under control, though, as much as he always does. The officer is speaking into a walkie-talkie to one of the nearby squad cars in the area, murmuring on about no evidence being deposited on the scene, mentioning that there probably wasn't much the bureau could do to solve the crime. In the midst of his aimless rambling and general complaints, Yoongi manages to creep up behind him, as stealthily as possible, to retrieve his baton from his back pocket.

  


By the time the poor soul notices and reacts, hand instinctively reaching for his gun, he is knocked to the ground by the thin metal object repeatedly pounding against his side. The cop reaches for the walkie-talkie that had bounced away on the ground, abandoning the idea and then kicking a boot toward Yoongi's middle. 

  


It knocks the wind out of him but he continues on. He goes on like that until the cop is a groaning mess, clamoring onto his side, reaching for the gun that resides in its holster. When he manages to get a hold onto it, Yoongi kicks it out of his fist, sending it clattering to the cement. Deciding that he had toyed enough with his pitiful prey, he drops all of his weight onto the man's back, silencing him in the form of knocking him unconscious.

  


Pounding footfalls echo beside him and he instinctively readies the baton, sighing in relief when it's only Jimin, who looks both enthralled and enraged. Yoongi climbs off the man, abandoning the baton on the ground but collecting the gun, flicking the safety off and tucking it inside the back of his jeans. He glances at Jimin then to the unconscious officer and back, smirking smugly, blatantly satisfied with his triumph.

  


"Help me lift him?" Jimin obliges with an amused smile, grabbing the man beneath the arm while Yoongi grabs him beneath the opposing one, the duo dragging him to the back of the police car. The blond props the man against the car, Jimin doing the work of keeping him mostly upright while he retrieves the keys to the vehicle to unlock the trunk. He winks playfully at Jimin then takes over from there, shoving the man into the small space and slamming the trunk down. "Nobody fucks with you, you got that?"

  


For a moment, Jimin gets caught up in the emotions flowing through him, even if the situation wasn't necessarily ideal. His teeth dive into his lower lip, eyes flickering across Yoongi's countenance, noticing that he's peering over at him with an equal intensity. Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out of his mouth: "I fucking love you, man." It comes out in a single breath, a sincere smile gracing his lips, shoving the blond as he mobilizes to jog toward whence they had came. "But seriously. We do need a car, Yoongs, so let's do this."

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was playing with the idea of betrayal~ who do you think would be the betrayer, though? that's the question. >:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's long overdue for this chapter to be posted, but it was hella long, so i found it troublesome to edit...
> 
>  
> 
> buuuuut here it is~
> 
>  
> 
>  ***** EDIT: may 2, 2018 *****  
>  i'm bringing this story back, just a heads up. <3

  
  
  


  
  
  


The surface of the wooden stand is covered in several bottles of whiskey, some opened while others would be soon, resting there until being plucked up by a pale hand. Nearly three glasses had been downed by the point, a feat that wasn't necessarily common for any of the teammates, let alone in a dire situation where everyone needed a level-head. Yet there he is reloading the pistol, pushing the bullets into the firearm, then cocks it boisterously within the quaint room.

  


Once more he aims toward the shredded paper target, one eye sealed while the other concentrates on the ounce of space remaining on the skull of the drawn human. He breathes in through his nose, holds it momentarily, and applies pressure to the trigger upon exhaling. As the previous bullets had, this one, too, pierces the paper and it crumples over. 

  


Fingers grasp the neck of the whiskey bottle and down another few gulps, the liquid burning like fire down his throat and settling within his empty stomach. The blond takes a calculative step to the next stall and glides his hand over the three firearms that rest there; a shotgun, a regular handgun, and a rifle.

  


He decides on plucking up the shotgun, moving it from one hand to the next to take in the noticeably heavier weight of it against his palms, lifting it toward the targets and focusing once more. Right when he's about to take the deafening shot, he's interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and the sound of shuffling feet against the casing-covered floor.

  


" _Oh_." comes the startled voice of none other than Jungkook, whose hand rests behind him on the knob, offering a strained smile to the elder. Yoongi quirks an imploring brow in response to the antsy behavior, reverting his attention back to the fresh target. "It's nothing, just that Jimin was wondering where you were.." He pauses, scratches at his cheek. "Plus I didn't think anyone would be up here and I wanted to be alone for a while." 

  


Yoongi releases his frustrations in the form of pulling the trigger, causing the latter to hurriedly bring his hands up to cover his ears, eyes clenching tightly shut at the boisterous noise. The blond sets the gun down and swipes the trio to the side, hopping unceremoniously onto the wooden stall, arms crossing over his chest as he observes the younger male. He rids himself of the sound cancelling earmuffs and allows them to dangle loosely around his neck, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

  


"So did I, but here you are." chastises Yoongi with a scolding click of his tongue. Jungkook winces outwardly at that but quickly rights his expression, eyes flickering to the not-so-subtle bullet hole in the floor. "Figures." He brings a leg onto the wooden surface, slinking his arms about the knee. "It's a big place, go find your own quiet space."

  


Jungkook ultimately releases the brass knob and strolls casually toward where the station of beers was located. He takes an opened one within his hand, nose crinkling at the humid temperature, but tilts his head back for a mouthful nonetheless. He swipes his mouth with the back of his hand, hissing at the horrid taste, eyes peering over to gauge Yoongi's reaction. He opens his mouth to speak but no audible response comes, only silence.

  


The raven shakes his head, scoffing to himself, twisting his wrist and taking another deep gulp before slamming the glass bottle onto the counter. He leans across the wood, fingers gripping onto the uneven surface firmly, eyes glaring at the guns that reside there. Something is clearly bothering the youth, that much was obvious, but Yoongi wasn't in the mood to be playing detective and definitely didn't have the patience to hear whatever thoughts were roaming through his head at that moment.

  


But before Yoongi can voice his frustrations aloud, Jungkook is pushing off the stall and approaching the elder with a scowl. In the short steps in takes to get there, he rolls up his sleeves to his forearms, lips pursing sternly as he sizes the blond up. "What did I ever do to you?" He ponders aloud, easily towering over the blond still seated. "You always treat me like shit and I haven't done anything." 

  


Amused more so than perplexed by the sudden act of bravery, Yoongi straightens his spine and rises to his feet, a broad grin spreading across his mouth at the ridiculousness of it. "You don't want to do this, trust me." He allows his arms to hang loosely at his sides, maintaining steady eye contact with the youth. "I get it, you're feeling some kinda way about what happened to Joon and Jin, but the last thing you wanna do is take it out on me." 

  


Cheeks flaming a bright crimson, Jungkook narrows his gaze, thrusting his arms forward and shoving the blond back against the wooden stall. "This has nothing to do with them." He retorts, hands balling into fists. "When I first joined the gang, I thought it was because I was the new guy, because I was the youngest, but then it never stopped." He shoves Yoongi again, the blond allowing the actions, figures he should give the kid space to vent. "I used to look up to you more than anyone, but it's like you just—"

  


Instead of finishing the statement, he swings an arm forward but is intercepted by Yoongi capturing his wrist. His other arm starts zooming forward and within a second of fumbling, Yoongi has it bent at the elbow, pressed flushed against the raven's back. He nudges a knee forward, has the raven bending at the waist, leaning over the wooden stall and fuming, chest heaving wildly, eyes clenched tightly shut.

  


Yoongi grapples for his other flailing arm until both are pinned to his back, attempting to calm the fanatic man. "I don't know what the fuck is going on with you right now, but you need to chill out." The raven releases a pathetic whimper, cheek resting flat against the cool table, jaw firmly clenched. "I don't want to hurt you but if I have to, I will."

  


Jungkook fidgets anxiously against the wood, lids fluttering open to peer back at the blond. "Do it, just fucking do it." murmurs the raven, breath coming out in heavy pants. "It's not like I ever—... I never fit in anyway, just do it, fuck..."

  


Deciding that the worst of it was over, the blond releases the youth, who takes a moment to collect his bearings and stand upright, countenance guilt-ridden and lips turned downward in a frown. He makes hesitant eye contact with the elder, gaze attempting to relay the emotions raging within him, doesn't trust his voice to speak on the subject any longer. He anxiously rubs his bicep, shifting all his weight onto one foot, eyes rolling upward to the ceiling.

  


Being mindful in cause of an abrupt retaliation, Yoongi takes a measured step back, arms folding defensively across his chest once more. He presses his tongue into his cheek, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. "Is that what this is about? You think I could give less than two shits about you? Is that what this is?"

  


In truth, Jungkook isn't even certain about why he had blown up like he had, so he initially refrains from answering. What he does do, however, is turn his back to the blond to fiddle with one of the empty guns resting on the stall counter. His shoulders hunch inwardly, sighing his exasperation. What could he say to describe the thoughts running rampant throughout his mind? How could he put into words how he really felt without receiving backlash?

  


Jungkook was many things, but he wasn't weak. And if speaking about what had been bothering him since the start of his reign with the team was considered weak, then he would refuse to do it. At least not with the blond present, perhaps maybe he could express his trepidation to Taehyung, an avid listener and his number one supporter? But no, it had nothing to do with the bubbly brunet, it was more everyone outside of his lover.

  


Fingers curl on the counter and he glances over his shoulder to find Yoongi peering at him with the same speculative expression on his countenance. If anything, his eyes had softened and his mouth has quirked into a frown, wrinkles framing his forehead as he furrows his brows. Deciding it would be best to offer the youngest of the team comfort, the blond closes the distance between them, opening his arms wide despite not being fond of any form of intimacy outside of Jimin.

  


Reluctantly Jungkook turns on his heel and embraces the elder, gripping onto the back of his shirt. "It's really not like that, kid. I guess I'm sorry you felt that way, but you guys are family, closest thing I have to blood." He grinds his teeth, absentmindedly questioning his own self-image and integrity. "You were a smart kid back then, just didn't wanna see you throwing your life away to do what we do. Has nothing to do with me being a dick, just wanted to see you doing better than all us."

  


Withdrawing from the embrace, Jungkook smooths down his shirt casually, not meeting the latter's gaze. "That's—that makes me feel better, I just wish that—..." He doesn't finish his train of thought and is instead making haste toward the door, hand lingering on the brass knob before turning it. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

  


Yoongi rakes a hand through his hair, ruffling his already disheveled locks, staring at the door swinging shut on its hinges. Something peculiar was going on, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it just yet, but he does make a mental note to keep a watchful eye on the raven. He releases a humorless snort and snatches up another bottle from the collection, takes a few measured swigs before harshly slamming it back onto the table to swipe his thumb along his bottom lip.

  


He spares a final glance in the direction of the door, brows furrowed on his forehead, tempted to trail behind the younger and demand a more eloquent explanation, but he doesn't move an inch. Deciding that he was arguably more frustrated than before, he snatches up the pistol resting dormant on the table, aims it nonchalantly at the target and empties out the barrel without a second thought.

  


" _Kids_."

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


There's a momentarily lapse of silence between the two as Jimin drifts to the side to retrieve a first aid kit as well as a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol. When he turns, kicking shards of glass out of the way of the bloody scene, he plops down upon the floor next to the brunet currently pressed against the wooden cabinet behind him.

  


The brunet adorns a sheepish expression, holding out both his hands, eyes avoiding the sight of the crimson mess coating his palms and digging deep into his fingers. There was so much to say but Jimin didn't have the energy to waste his breath, just grabs for the rubbing alcohol, coining the latter an apologetic quirk of the lips before pouring it halfheartedly onto the torn skin.

  


Immediately Taehyung hisses and reluctantly withdraws his hands, but is briskly caught firmly by Jimin's own hand, utilizing the other to continue pouring the substance. Little whimpers emanate from the brunet as it cascades onto his wounds, blood pouring like a fountain to stain the pristine white tiles below, swirling in a diluted mess as it spans across the general vicinity.

  


Pieces of glass are still stiffly embedded into his skin, evidence of his reckless behavior. Yet still he doesn't acknowledge the damage done, just stares ahead at Jimin, watching the way he crinkles his nose in disdain and glares fiercely at the marred skin. Part of him wants to say something, thinking rapidly about how he would explain his actions, only for another whimper to escape his throat when he flexes his hand the wrong way.

  


It digs the shard deeper into the area just below his middle finger, sending a piercing throb through his hand and up the length of his arm. "I was angry." admits Taehyung absentmindedly, watching avidly as Jimin retrieves a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit. "No, no I wasn't—I was _frustrated_ , that's it." 

  


Jimin snorts humorlessly as he centralizes on grabbing hold of each shard and tugging as swiftly as possible, creating a small pile of scarlet glass beside him on the tile. He pauses, coins the latter a reproachful look. "Is frustrated the same as stupid now?"

  


Taehyung gasps sharply at a particularly painful extraction, cursing under his breath and stiffening against the wooden cabinet. "It's not that bad," feebly reassures the brunet, attempting to laugh it off. "Just a few little cuts here and there."

  


"It's not a fucking joke." Jimin speaks as calmly as he can muster. "Throwing glasses just because you're pissed isn't something to be so goddamn happy about." Taehyung makes to retort but is silenced by another scolding from the elder. "It's bad enough you did it, but then picking it up with your hands, Tae?"

  


The brunet relents beneath the scolding and bows his head in shame. "It doesn't feel right, just sitting here and waiting for something to happen." He finally gazes at the pile of shards accumulating then takes a steadying breath. "We need to be out there helping, finding a way out of this hell-hole, trying to save—"

  


Jimin pacifies him and continues picking at the remaining pieces, one's almost too small to get a decent grasp on. "I want to do that so bad, but we have to keep it together, alright? If we get ourselves killed doing dumb stuff, everything up to this point was for nothing. Messing up now, it's not gonna bring them back. Do you get that?"

  


The metallic scent is nauseating to Jimin as he finishes plucking out the last of the glass, shifting to rattle through the small kit to retrieve gauze and medical tape. He starts with the latter's left hand, wrapping the soft, absorbent material around the area until its pulled taut, finishing up with taping the gauze down. He repeats the same action with the opposing hand, though he needs more gauze than last time; there was more blood there, more open cuts scattered about.

  


Taehyung has immersed himself in a contemplative trance as he stares at the doorway leading toward the narrow corridor outside of the kitchen. A flicker of raven hair captures his attention and serves as a distraction, hearing the audible sound of his labored breathing as he treads by. Jimin takes notice of the disturbance and shifts, palm pressing into the bloody pool on the tiling, peering toward the fleeting sight of Jungkook gripping onto his hair, releasing another haggard breath.

  


It continues on like that until the raven is safely out of earshot, the sound of a door slamming on its hinges, ultimately startling an already uneasy Taehyung. The brunet is glancing at Jimin, eyes pleading with him, knowing that it would be best to diffuse the situation before it escalates any further than it already had. But Jimin is shaking his head ever-so-slightly, wordlessly dismissing the idea.

  


"The last thing he wants is to be drenched in blood, yours specifically." regards Jimin after a moment, quirking his lips up in a melancholy smile. "Go get cleaned up and stay out of trouble. No more glasses or better yet, don't even come into the kitchen anymore. I'll get Hoseok to bring you something later?"

  


Still sheepish, Taehyung bows his head respectively, nodding his affirmation. He doesn't move, however, just stays seated on the heavily saturated tile. He picks at the wrappings at his palm, wincing at the pain that surges through the area; it only makes him wanna do it more, and he does so, proceeding to press the wounds with more pressure until the material is soaking up what gushes out. 

  


Brows furrowing, and brain effectively muddled by the latter's behavior, Jimin snatches his prodding hand away and steels him with a pointed, stern look. "Tae, come on. Why are you doing that?"

  


The brunet blinks, as if he had been in a haze, some distant reverie that only he could see, peering up at the older man through his lashes. "I don't know." Jimin scoffs aloud at that, eyes rolling predictably in response, wiping his scarlet hands on his jeans. "I guess I do know, it just—... This is what it means to be alive, right? To hurt, like this?" He holds up his hand in reference, extending his fingers and twisting his wrist to better show off the bandaging.

  


"Being alive is a lot of things, I guess?" Jimin speaks pensively, considering the position the latter poses. "Pain, yeah, but there's so much more than that." He reaches forward tentatively and curls Taehyung's fingers forward to make a fist, shoving them haphazardly toward his lap; he gets the gist and obeys, folding his hands and sitting them in the space between his thighs. "This is just temporary," reassures the older man, offering a warm smile: "this kinda thing? It doesn't last forever, so keep your head up for me, alright?" He taps a forefinger beneath the latter's chin until it relents, Taehyung meeting his eyes and offering a bright, sincere smile. 

  


"I'll try." Taehyung pauses, but never once does his grin fade. "But not just for you, I'll be strong for everyone."

  


His brown eyes flicker to the sight of Hoseok lingering in the entryway of the kitchen, overlooking the exchange with a fond, faint smile playing on his mouth. When he's caught, he awkwardly coughs into the fist his hand makes, cheeks flaring as he reluctantly shuffles into the kitchen. His dark eyes note the general disarray of the area—the shattered glass, the obvious metallic scent in the air, how Taehyung wears a bandage that hadn't been there earlier that morning.

  


He allows his shoulders to remain leveled as he drifts off to retrieve a mop and a bucket, filling it up nonchalantly at the sink, gazing at the two still positioned on the floor. "We gotta clean this up, like, right now." Hoseok instructs, tone chastising, offering an empathetic glance at Taehyung. "Could you imagine what Jin would say if he came home to this?"

  


This brings an even greater smile to Taehyung's lips as he clamors to his feet, hissing at the pain in his palms as he grips on the counter to wretch himself up. Jimin does much of the same, releasing a laugh at the thought of Jin's horrified and disapproving glare, ordering everyone around until the mess was cleaned up; if it wasn't his mess, he wouldn't clean up, that was his motto.

  


For now it's enough to comfort the heavy-hearted Taehyung who retrieves the mop, dipping it onto the bucket, then smears the bloodied mess to one side. Meanwhile Hoseok is searching for a broom and dustpan to gather the remainder of glass upon the floor. Jimin lingers, having plopped onto the kitchen count, currently having no designated task to handle, watching the other two men speak to each other about the incredulous tone Jin would have taken on had he been there to witness the monstrosity.

  


 

  


-

  


 

  


Needless to say, Yoongi thought this was a terrible idea, yet here he is driving the car regardless of the instinct to stay far away from the main roads. As per usual, Jimin is his right hand man, feet crossed at the ankles on the dashboard with a handgun splayed across his lap. Every once and a while his fingers will brush the dial to the radio, either increasing or decreasing the music playing from the speakers. In the backseat rests Hoseok, who is hunched down as low as possible, thick shades covering his eyes and a jacket zipped up to just below his chin.

  


It's a solemn ride back to the old base, and interestingly enough, nothing appeared to have changed once the team makes it across the bridge. There are blockades leading toward the large establishment, however, which leaves the blond cursing beneath his breath as he abruptly brakes and hears the wailing of the tires in response. Thankfully Taehyung had been paying attention, otherwise he would have ruined the blond's bumper, denting the metal of his beautiful new car.

  


Yoongi peers through the rear-view mirror, finds the brunet lifting his hands up in bewilderment, then purses his lips. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the dense foliage, to which Taehyung's brows furrow at, glancing at Jungkook to briefly exchange a few words, but nodding. Yoongi had been right, this was a terrible idea. 

  


He turns the steering wheel and drives straight into the wooded area, hearing twigs and rotted tree trunks snapping beneath the heavy wheels. Driving closer toward the establishment in this dense foliage proved a difficult trek, so he ends up parking a decent distance away, snatching the keys out of the ignition once the vehicle comes to a complete halt.

  


Bright yellow police tape is still shrouded about the area, a sinister reminder of what had occurred here. But he doesn't dwell on the thought any longer as he exits the vehicle with the rest of the team in tow, guns tightly clasped in each person's hand, ready to aim and fire at a moment's notice. Hoseok joins Yoongi in the forefront, leading the way down the steep hill, kicking away the tape that prevents their passage.

  


"First things first, we're checking the base. Maybe there's something there we can salvage," Hoseok speaks calmly as he eases down another grassy hill, grappling onto low-hanging tree limbs to steady himself. "If Namjoon and Jin made it out, they would have left clues. So look out for something that shows that they were here." 

  


Jungkook speaks up then, clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest, making eye contact with Hoseok. "We should split up," Beside him Taehyung tenses, mouth opening to speak, only for his lips to waver momentarily before closing altogether in resignation. "I know it sounds crazy, but we could cover more ground this way, and we could get out of here faster." 

  


Yoongi spares a fleeting glance at Hoseok, who looks pessimistic about the idea, but resolves to agree. "Yeah, yeah. Good thinking, kid." This brings a tiny smile to Jungkook's mouth, which disappears in seconds when he glances at the bewildered expression that Taehyung wears. "We're wasting time, so get to it. Come back in twenty minutes, we clear?"

  


Without hesitating, the blond marches toward the tape scattered around the circumference of the area. When he glances over his shoulder, he finds that Jimin is already retreating and delving into the woods with confidence in his gait. It makes him smirk, fond of how serious the latter got when it came down to missions, rarely allowing his focus to shift. 

  


The others, however, he was worried about. More so Taehyung more than Jungkook and Hoseok. The brunet is already retrieving his gun from its holster, both hands firmly grasped onto it, currently ducking to avoid a low-hanging tree limb as he disappears from sight into the foliage. The other two were long gone by the time he searches for them, and he doesn't really know why he does it, but there was something reassuring about the sight of everyone so determined; it had been a while since the last group mission and it felt good to have everyone together, even if they would be separate for the time-being.

  


Why Yoongi was feeling so sentimental was beyond him, it wasn't like he had thought about such things in depth before, not when a clear mind was necessary to properly fulfill a mission. But here he is, running digits through his locks, ruffling them as he maneuvers one hand to swat at the leaves and vines scattered about, ducking when appropriate and squinting when he peers to survey the remainder of sunlight he would have left.

  


After what seems like minutes of aimless wandering, he comes upon the remnants of a campfire where there are charred sticks and wooden planks strewn about a makeshift fire pit. As he investigates further, he squats down to rummage through an empty knapsack, finding nothing of any importance. He unconsciously pats his side for a walkie-talkie and comes up empty, to which he scoffs at; the stupidity of the team had to be severe if no one chimed in about opening lines of communication.

  


He ventures further down a path where the dirt is kicked up at, snatching up a tattered and bloodied piece of cloth. His thumb brushes over the russet brown stains, deciphering that it was blood, but not only that. Part of him vaguely remembers the plaid shirt Jin had been wearing before everything went to shit but the vast majority of that day is such a blur, that he can't be certain, not when the area could have been discovered by avid adventurists.

  


"Fucking hell." Yoongi murmurs beneath his breath, wetting his bottom lip, stuffing the cloth into his front pocket for safe-keeping. When he makes to take a step forward, he hears the faint sound of rustling from nearby, can hear twigs snapping beneath a considerable weight. He places his hands on his hips, shakes his head and snorts to himself, because of course someone would have the audacity to sneak up on him. "I'm gonna count to three, that's all I'm gonna say, I'm sure you can figure out the rest." 

  


But the relentless crunching of leaves beneath shoes perseveres, which honestly frustrates him. He rolls his sleeves up on his jacket, pops his neck, and retrieves the knife from his back pocket, flipping the blade up with a swipe of his thumb. As the sound narrows in, he times it almost perfectly, sliding on his heel and slicing the blade blindly through the air at the perpetrator.

  


His wrist is caught effectively by a policeman with superior reflexes, snapping his wrists with a sharp ' _crack_!' until the blade clamors to the leaves below. Yoongi hisses in pain at the state of his limp wrist, knocking his head forward into the policeman's, only for his arm to be grabbed and spun on the spot, earning a knee to the back. 

  


One of the policemen's legs finds its way around one of Yoongi's legs, whose still keen on the limpness of his wrist, and brings him to the foliage on the cold ground. "You have the right to remain silent and anything you say can and will be held against you." recites the officer smugly, fumbling for the handcuffs on his belt.

  


"You're gonna regret that." howls Yoongi as he writhes against the ground, trying to find leverage in this situation. Upon discovering that he was in a dire situation, he does the next best thing; he manages to squirm onto his knees and topples the officer from his back, immediately hoisting himself from the ground and darting off in the opposing direction.

  


His left hand wouldn't be of much use in its current state, his wrist rapidly swelling and quite obviously bent out of shape. He cradles it to his chest and shifts so his back isn't to the cop, retrieving his gun instead, aiming it to the man with only one hand on the grip. The officer nonchalantly dusts the debris from his uniform as if it was just another day on the job, even audacious enough to scold him with a click of the tongue, head shaking in disappointment.

  


"I gave you the opportunity to come in quietly, now you're allowing me to use excessive force." states the man in a condescending tone, steadily approaching, Yoongi's finger on the trigger never wavering once as the man nears. "You and your group of assholes already have a whole list of charges against ya', might as well let me take you in now. Last thing you want is the murder of a cop on your rap sheet." 

  


"Are all cops cunts like you?" Yoongi ponders aloud, deciding to play along. "For the record, I'm not worried about that. Another charge is another charge, not like it matters to me." He pauses, scratches the barrel of the gun thoughtfully against his temple. "What's a charge when I don't get caught?"

  


The officer goes crimson in the face then, the blond having struck a nerve, one that has him balling his fists at his sides as he approaches. "The task force has had it with you _Bulletproof Brats_." growls the officer as he retrieves his own gun, having no qualms aiming it at Yoongi; its laser is directed at his shoulder, which the blond isn't concerned about, nothing he's never dealt with before. "I know about your friends, too. You think I'm the only one out here patrolling the area? I bumped into the jumpy one, wish you could'a seen how he was begging to—"

  


Nothing else needed to be said for Yoongi to abandon his stance and swiftly cross the distance between them to tackle the man to the ground, continuing to press against the man's middle until his back thuds against the trunk of a tree. In the insanity of it all, the officer had started clocking the blond in the temple, attempting to halt his actions. It leaves a spot of blood staining Yoongi's fair-skin, dribbling down his temple and the side of his face.

  


The officer shoves the blond off his person and whips his arm forward, sending the cool metal smacking into his cheek, finishing the move with delivering a blow to his left arm. It sends a painful jolt through his arm, his wrist aching horrendously, but he doesn't give up. What he concentrates on is creating distance to effectively knock the gun from the latter's hands, executing a roundhouse kick, sending the metallic object soaring to knock against the bark. 

  


"This won't end well for any of you," spits the officer as he retrieves the set of handcuffs once more. "You can end this now, kid. Get your friends off free. Have only you do all the time, how about that?"

  


Yoongi can taste the metallic tang of blood staining his teeth as he laughs aloud, steadily backing away from the man and preparing to make a sprint for the clearing he had passed earlier. "Today isn't my day," snorts the blond as he holds firmly to his wrist and darts to the side, as fast as his legs would carry him, hearing echoing footfalls from behind him.

  


Never once does he glance back, doesn't even want to take notice of the odds he wouldn't make it out alive. Just focuses on pressing further, harder, faster until he finds himself panting and hopping over a massive log in his way, sliding over the bark that digs intricately into his skin. And just when he thinks that he's safely away from the officer, he finds himself convulsing immensely, jolts of electricity sizzling through his body until he collapses in a weak, discombobulated heap on the ground.

  


The officer is back on him in seconds, body still trembling from the aftershocks, arm being forcibly bent behind his back and the damning sound of the cuffs clamping onto his wrists. Yoongi can barely mutter out the curse on his lips at the fact that the officer had tightened the cuffs unbearably on his ailed wrist, the blond squirming vigorously on the ground, feebly putting up a fight.

  


"I warned you." states the officer as keeps a firm hand on the chains linking the cuffs together, dragging the blond across the ground. Yoongi twists to relieve some of the tension on his ailed wrist, but it only makes the pain worsen, the blond restraining a howl through clenched teeth. "In a minute, I'll let you walk with some dignity to the squad car. I'm sure jumpy would be happy to see you." 

  


There was nothing left for the blond to say, not when his pride had taken one blow too many. So he allows the officer to mercilessly drag him across the ground, twigs digging into his sides, edges of rocks poking into his back and creating holes in his jacket. All he could do is glare up at the man, grinding his teeth, livid at the thought that his reign may very well be over. Not that he believes that, really, he still has hopes the others would realize what had occurred.

  


It doesn't take long until he's being tossed into the back of the squad car beside a quiet Taehyung. His bottom lip is busted and there are scratches along his arms. Yoongi takes notice of the soiled bandages as well and part of him swells with pride that the brunet, arguably the most passive and least confrontational of the group, managed to fend for himself without giving in almost immediately after capture.

  


The officer slams the door and drifts off into the woods once more, presumably to locate the rest of the team. "He got you, too?" murmurs Taehyung, shrinking further against the seat, accepting defeat. Yoongi directs his scowl at him this time, watches how the brunet struggles to create distance between them, earning an unfavorable squeaking as he slides across the seat. "Sorry, it's just—You know I talk a lot when I'm nervous." 

  


The blond knows this, which is why he detested missions involving the brunet, but he doesn't start complaining about that now. His body is still twitching at random intervals from the shock, but he's otherwise fine, save for the purpling of his wrist of course. Perhaps if the area wasn't as swollen as it was, he could have somehow slicked it through the cuffs and found a way to escape from the car. Taehyung is staring at him, expecting him to spew a plan, though he eventually averts his gaze when nothing is said.

  


Instead Yoongi allows his forehead, damp with drying blood, to bang halfheartedly against the glass. His body is grateful for the coolness there, radiating through his body, having a calming effect. Then his eyes shoot open and he's squirming on the seat and is half on Taehyung, half about to slide onto the space behind the passenger seat. 

  


Taehyung stays relatively still, figures the elder has ultimately lost his mind, decisively remaining quiet. But Yoongi is continuing to wriggle until he manages to find himself seated uncomfortably on the youth's lap. He glances over his shoulder at the brunet, whose brows are furrowed, worried lines forming in his forehead at the bizarre behavior. 

  


Yoongi releases a frustrated groan when the latter doesn't catch on to what he was doing. "Put your fucking hand in my jeans, Tae." Aforementioned releases a startled squeak, wriggling beneath the elder's weight, not fond of the suggestion. "No, just—Will you just fucking do it, there's a knife in there and I have an idea." 

  


The brunet mutters beneath his breath that maybe he should have said that to begin with, continuing to mumble and curse until, after a few fumbling attempts, manages to get a good grip onto the blade. He fiddles with it, nicking himself on the finger as he gets the blade open, extending his cuffed hands to offer the blade to Yoongi's beckoning hand.

  


"Oh—Oh God, that's so gross." Taehyung whines low in his throat at the sight of Yoongi's broken wrist, dry heaving and having to look away. "What happened to you?"

  


Yoongi ignores him. He's suddenly thankful that he was petite rather than silently brooding about it for once. It doesn't take long for him to contort into an awkward position, back pressed against the roof of the interior, ass pressed against the very top of the glass window. His coordination is uninspiring as he blindly tries to get the blade to wiggle between the glass and the frame. Somehow he manages it, but just barely, twisting the blade at an angle until he can feel a brisk breeze against his fingers.

  


He sighs in relief and drops the blade to seat where it slides to rest near his shoe. Taehyung is observing, baffled and astonished by this tremendous feat, eyes brightening and fervor for freedom increasing. The blond's tongue plays at the corner of his mouth as he squeezes his finger between the frame and glass, pressing down on it with all his remaining energy until it relents beneath his administrations, squealing as the glass is manually lowered. 

  


"I'll get the door open for you, alright? Hang tight." Yoongi instructs, shifting once more upon the seat, trying to avoid the blade sliding across the leather as he positions himself to slide through the window. It's awkward and mildly uncomfortable as he moves about the backseat, nearly knocking Taehyung in the jaw with his foot as he gets into the right position. "And I swear if you fucking laugh." 

  


Almost instantaneously the grin that plays on Taehyung mouth is replaced by a firm line, though bubbles of laughter are already forming in his throat. Watching Yoongi flop around like a fish out of water was quite possibly on the list of things that would be forever ingrained in his memory. He's also a little entranced, too, as Yoongi fits his petite form through the open space and he covers his snickering with breathless coughing when he hears the answering thud of the blond hitting the ground.

  


Yoongi uses the back tire to find his foot, straightening up completely, sticking his head through the glass and urging the younger male to hurry. "Officer Dickhead is out there looking for the team, we gotta go. Wiggle your ass over here." His good hand feels for the handle and yanks at it until it swings open, leaving enough space for Taehyung to get out.

  


Taehyung trails behind Yoongi as if his life depended on it, and maybe it did in certain respects. He appreciates his hands having been cuffed in front of him and instinctively reaches out toward Yoongi's ailed wrist, noting the darkened skin there, pads of his fingers gingerly touching the area. "If you don't take care of this soon—"

  


The blond swats at the hands prodding his wrist, eyes staring pointedly ahead as he recalls where the cars had been deposited. "Bigger things to worry about." He nods his head in the direction of the woods, keeping careful watch of his footing, avoiding the roots exposed from the ground and other little things here and there. "Just keep quiet and keep up, that's all you gotta think about right now." 

  


Retracing the journey getting to that point was an easier feat than either two had imagined. The officer was nowhere in sight nor were there any suspicious noises emanating from the general vicinity. The blond glances up periodically at the sky, finds the sun is beginning to steadily set, decides that there was only a few hours left of daylight. Every so often Taehyung would inquire about whether or not Yoongi thought the others were okay, not that he received answers, just agitated eye rolls and gruff retorts about how stealth wasn't his strong point.

  


Eventually the duo makes it back to the vehicles but with none of the others in sight. He plops down on the trunk of the car unceremoniously and Taehyung joins him, getting his legs tucked beneath him, staring off blankly into the distance in the way he frequents. There was bound to be a million thoughts swarming his mind, but Yoongi didn't wish to ask, just remains as quiet as the youth is. The two stay like that for another ten or fifteen minutes it seemed until audible shrieks are heard for a few hundred feet away, alarming the duo, spurring them into action and hopping off the trunk.

  


What they eventually see is the remaining three team members rushing toward the vehicles, yelling at the duo to get the cars started, but to no avail considering their current state. Yoongi does the next best thing and manages to get the passenger door open, sliding in but unable to get the door closed properly. Much the same goes for Taehyung who scrambles into the backseat face-first, directing the others to hurry and close the doors.

  


Jimin slides across the hood of the car Yoongi and Taehyung are in, gets the doors secured shut, then travels back to the driver seat. Hoseok and Jungkook are already in the separate car, working on backing out, having to swerve to keep from hitting a small army of officers darting their way. Jimin doesn't hesitate, let alone think, as he drives through the terrain and over the rocks leading toward the escape route. Hoseok follows suit in the car behind him, both vehicles traveling as fast as the engine would allow, hearing sounds of protest from the tires.

  


Jimin studies Yoongi through his peripheral, taking note of his bloodied and disheveled state, hands unconsciously gripping more firmly onto the steering wheel as he swerves into traffic. He glances briefly at the rear view mirror, spots Hoseok is struggling to keep up in the congested traffic, notes the police cars weaving in and out of lanes. "Out of all the nice trucks at the base, you would choose the Benz?" incredulously hisses Jimin as he whizzes past a police car that abruptly crosses the opposing lane in an attempt to cut him off.

  


"Are we really gonna talk about my shitty car taste when we're in a fucking chase right now?" Yoongi bites back, though his voice lacks genuine malice. The blond notes the two police cars side-by-side behind the vehicle and shifts to glance back at Taehyung being thrown about the backseat. "You good back there?"

  


Taehyung nods his head enthusiastically and is sent flying across the seat once more, grumbling lowly in his throat about how Jimin should mind his driving. The two cars pursuing them manages to get on either side of the Benz now, trying to narrow them in and lessen means for escape. Jimin notes the officers seeming to correspond to each other through radio-coms and glances at Yoongi, who coins him a knowing look.

  


It springs him into action and he shoots an arm out toward Yoongi's front, bracing him as best as he can as the car lurches to an almost full halt, the two officer's colliding into each other; the sound is piercing as the metal contorts and Jimin doesn't have time to register the scene itself as he drifts the vehicle into the next lane and presses harder on the pedal.

  


"You just mom-armed me." comments Yoongi as casually as possible, smug smirk playing on his lips despite the pain that surges up his arm from being slammed rigorously back onto the seat. "You really just mom'ed me..." 

  


"Like you'd rather be through the fucking windshield? Let's not do this right now, Yoongs." There's an insane tone to Jimin's voice as he speaks and the blond is aware that it's the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I love you like hell but for the love of everything, _shut the fuck up and let me drive_." 

  


Taehyung agrees as much, piping up from the backseat, deciding that he would stay put on the floor instead of being jostled around like a sack of potatoes. Suddenly the vehicle is spinning in a full rotation and Jimin is accelerating in the direction of whence the trio has just came. The brunet is spluttering, questioning what the fuck was going on, but no one says anything; his answer is the vehicle lurching forward.

  


Yoongi glances through the rear-view mirror, directing Jimin calmly, expressing what he needs to do in order to pull this off. In the far distance behind the Benz rests Hoseok and Jungkook, currently halted in the center of traffic, tires on the car having blown out from gunfire. The duo are shrunken in the front-seats, covering their heads from the gunfire, desperately trying to avoid getting hit.

  


When Taehyung finally manages to squirm back onto the seats to check what was up, he gasps sharply and tries to sit perfectly still in the center of the backseat to make room for the other two. His legs end up kicking this way and that as he shoots them forward to brace his sneakers on the back of the seats in front of him, back being pressed firmly against the leather.

  


Hoseok is the first to notice the rescue effort and is bravely swinging the driver door open, but it geta knocked off almost instantaneously as a startled driver rams it head-on. His eyes are wide and frenzied as he quickly darts his head out from the open space, finding the officers were exiting the vehicles a few hundred feet behind them, already yelling out their rights. Jungkook is looking at him for guidance, much like the rest of the younger team members did, breathing hard but ready to do whatever he was told.

  


"Gotta meet them halfway," instructs Hoseok as he makes to sling a leg out onto the asphalt. He does so successfully and gets flat onto the ground and out of the officer's range of sight. Jungkook mimics the action and stays as close to the vehicle as he can for cover, palms burning against the sweltering heat wafting from the ground.

  


Jimin eases closer to the scene, noticing the crawling duo through the rear-view mirrors, leg jiggling warily at the officer's zeroing in. The duo surges into the backseat, jostling Taehyung unapologetically in the process, gripping onto the backseats for comfort as they attempt to calm their racing hearts. It takes the officer's a while to realize that the duo had escaped, retreating toward their own separate cars for another high-speed pursuit.

  


By then, however, Jimin has raced off onto the next available exit and is shamelessly meandering through traffic much like he had witnessed Hoseok do countless times before. Once there are no more sirens buzzing about, he slows the pace of the car, foot easing off the pedal and allowing himself to relax for the first time since he had left the second base.

  


Everyone in the backseat is resting, leaning on the other for support, whispering loudly about what had occurred and what the future would be like once their names were more published in the public eye. Meanwhile Jimin is reaching off to the side, hand hovering on Yoongi's upper thigh, offering it a reassuring squeeze.

  


"You good?" Jimin ponders aloud, glancing back and forth from the road and Yoongi. "What happened to your hand?" Yoongi doesn't speak, however, he's far too exhausted to say anything. "Just—Just hold on, alright? Sorry for yelling before, I've just never seen you so busted up before, this is— _Fuck_ , Yoongs. Can you just look at me for a sec?"

  


And he does. The side of his face caked with dried blood and all. There are slices in his cheek, face bruising significantly from the fight he had endured, crimson clinging to his blond locks and clumping at his forehead. Needless to say, he looked like shit, quite possibly worse than that even. Jimin's features soften considerably and he steers the wheel once more until the vehicle is stalling on the side of the road.

  


"Someone switch with us." demands Jimin, already exiting the vehicle, going to Yoongi's side to get the door open for him. Ultimately Hoseok and Jungkook return to the front seats, driving idly with no real location in mind. After a moment of rummaging through one of the duffel bags retrieved from the trunk, he plucks out a bobby pin. He holds it up triumphantly in front of Yoongi's face, watches as the exhausted blond manages a grim smile.

  


This spurs the youth to be more hasty in his efforts, inserting the pin into the tiny space, twisting it this way and that strategically until it relents beneath his administrations. The cuffs themselves unlock from Yoongi's wrists, leaving him prodding at the purpled skin of his left one, hissing in pain and gritting his teeth. Jimin takes it within his hands and takes notice of the damage done, deciding that it would heal properly as long as it was set as soon as possible.

  


Dark eyes offer Yoongi a sympathetic glance as he tenderly massages the area with the pad of his thumb. "How do you look so sexy after getting your ass kicked?" casually remarks Jimin as he continues with his actions, speaking as conversationally as possible. It reels a snort from Yoongi, who slants an arm over his eyes, the blood clinging to his bottom lip glistening. "Seeing you like this makes me wanna take care of you and, fuck, last time I saw you this wrecked, I sucked you—" Yoongi curses loudly, eyes going glassy, hand reaching for the wrist that had just spontaneously been reset. It looks better, that much is visible, but the pain, fuck, the pain. 

  


"What the hell is wrong with you?" screeches Yoongi, nails digging into the skin of his palm as he adjusts to the pain; his tolerance was low at this point and, really, he thinks he may have a minor concussion as well so he wasn't fending well. "You couldn't have waited till I was drunk first?"

  


Jimin grins triumphantly and interlaces their fingers, melting into the seat. "Yeah, well. Figured you wanted to keep your hand, asshole." Yoongi, strangely overwhelmed, surges forward and presses his lips against the latter's, working his mouth open, letting him taste the blood stainting his teeth. Jimin moans into the kiss, tongue working against Yoongi's, eager for the solace it brings. He presses a hand to Yoongi's chest,  
pressing lightly against it, the blond's unfocused eyes flickering to gauge his reasoning. "Get some sleep, Yoongs, you earned it."

  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> college starts back soon and i'm not ready~ good luck to everyone this year xx
> 
> questions, comments, concerns? <3

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you think? comments? kudos? :D <3


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